I was not always free from melancholy; but even melancholy had its charms.
Ennui is the disease of hearts without feeling, and of minds without resources.
A fondness for satire indicates a mind pleased with irritating others; for myself, I never could find amusement in killing flies.
People who know how to employ themselves, always find leisure moments, while those who do nothing are forever in a hurry.
Deep joy is a serene and sober emotion, rarely evinced in open merriment.
The feeble howl with the wolves, bray with the asses, and bleat with the sheep.