Happiness, like misfortunes, never comes alone.

Oh Dear! How unfortunate I am not to have anyone to weep with!

There are twelve hours in the day, and above fifty in the night.

. . . long journeys are strange things: if we were always to continue in the same mind we are in at the end of a journey, we should never stir from the place we were then in . . .

There is nobody who is not dangerous for someone.

. . . this life is a perpetual chequer-work of good and evil, pleasure and pain. When in possession of what we desire, we are only so much the nearer losing it; and when at a distance from it, we live in expectation of enjoying it again.

Reason bears disgrace, courage combats it, patience surmounts it.