Clearness ornaments profound thoughts.
Sometimes a lengthened period of prosperity melts away in a moment; just as the heat of summer flies before a day of tempest.
We are almost always guilty of the hate we encounter.
If our friends do us a service, we think they owe it to us by their title of friend. We never think that they do not owe us their friendship.
The conscience of the dying belies their life.
The usual pretext of those who make others unhappy is that they do it for their own good.