The fruit derived from labor is the sweetest of pleasures.
We can love with all our hearts those in whom we recognize great faults. It would be impertinent to believe that perfection alone has the right to please us; sometimes our weaknesses attach us to each other as much as our virtues.
Servitude debases men to the point where they end up liking it.
Constancy is the chimera of love.
One promises much, to avoid giving little.
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.