The new friends whom we make after attaining a certain age and by whom we would fain replace those whom we have lost, are to our old friends what glass eyes, false teeth and wooden legs are to real eyes, natrual teeth and legs of flesh and bone.

Tragedy has the great moral defect of giving too much importance to life and death.

The majority of the books of our time give one the impression of having been manufactured in a day out of books read the day before.

Most books today seemed to have been written overnight from books read the day before.

Vain is equivalent to empty; thus vanity is so miserable a thing, that one cannot give it a worse name than its own. It proclaims itself for what it is.

An author is often obscure to the reader because they proceed from the thought to expression than like the reader from the expression to the thought.

Remorse turns us against ourselves.