Fortune is not only blind herself, but blinds the people she has embraced.

We are not born, we do not live for ourselves alone; our country, our friends, have a share in us.

As in the case of wines that improve with age, the oldest friendships ought to be the most delightful.

Whatever that be which thinks, understands, wills, and acts, it is something celestial and divine.

Like readily consorts with like.

The harvest of old age is the recollection and abundance of blessing previously secured.

Our generosity never should exceed our abilities.