You will always find that those are most apt to boast of national merit, who have little or not merit of their own to depend on . . .

The true use of speech is not so much to express our wants as to conceal them.

To the last moment of his breath, On hope the wretch relies; And even the pang preceding death Bids expectation rise.

Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind.

Romance and novel paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and describe a happiness that humans never taste. How deceptive and destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss!

Is it that Nature, attentive to the preservation of mankind, increases our wishes to live, while she lessens our enjoyments, and as she robs the senses of every pleasure, equips imag-ination in the spoil?

Friendship is made up of esteem and pleasure; pity is composed of sorrow and contempt: the mind may for some time fluctuate between them, but it can never entertain both at once.