The favorites of fortune or of fame topple from their pedestals before our eyes without diverting us from ambition.

Men sometimes feel injured by praise because it assigns a limit to their merit; few people are modest enough not to take offense that one appreciates them.

When we are sick our virtues and our vices are in abeyance.

As soon as an opinion becomes common it is sufficient reason for men to abandon it and to uphold the opposite opinion until that in its turn grows old, and they require to distinguish themselves by other things. Thus if they attain their goal in some art or science, we must expect them soon to cast it aside to acquire some fresh fame, and this is partly the reason why the most splendid ages degenerate so quickly, and, scarcely emerged from barbarism, plunge into it again.

The counsels of old age give light without heat, like the sun in winter.

Every thought is new when an author expresses it in a manner peculiar to himself.

Prosperity makes few friends.