No one but a fool would measure their satisfaction by what the world thinks of it.

Prudery is ignorance.

We are all sure of two things, at least; we shall suffer and we shall all die.

The fortunate circumstances of our lives are generally found, at last, to be of our own producing.

Life has been compared to a race, but the allusion improves by observing, that the most swift are usually the least manageable and the most likely to stray from the course. Great abilities have always been less serviceable to the possessors than moderate ones.

Unequal combinations are always disadvantageous to the weaker side.

There is yet a silent agony in which the mind appears to disdain all external help, and broods over its distresses with gloomy reserve. This is the most dangerous state of mind; accidents or friendships may lessen the louder kinds of grief, but all remedies for this must be had from within, and there despair too often finds the most deadly enemy.