The wisest man is he who does not fancy that he is so at all.
He [Moliere] pleases all the world, but cannot please himself.
Everything that poverty touches becomes frightful.
Honor is like an island, rugged and without a beach; once we have left it, we can never return.
Every age has its pleasures, its style of wit, and its own ways.
It is the sin which we have not committed which seems the most monstrous.