We like so much to hear people talk of us and of our motives, that we are charmed even when they abuse us.

When we reckon without Providence, we must frequently reckon twice.

We are so fond of hearing ourselves spoken of, that, be it good or ill, it is still pleasing.

war often breaks out when there is the most talk of peace.

. . . it seldom happens, I think, that a man has the civility to die when all the world wishes it.

the days, and the months, and the years, pass so swiftly, that I can no longer retain them. Time, in its flight, hurries me away, in spite of myself; in vain I endeavor to stop him, he drags me along: the thought of this alarms me.

Gloom and sadness are poison to us, and the origin of hysterics. You are right in thinking that this disease is in the imagination; you have defined it perfectly; it is vexation which causes it to spring up, and fear that supports it.