We love justice greatly, and just men but little.

Poetry is the exquisite expression of exquisite impressions.

We are more conscious that a person is in the wrong when the wrong concerns ourselves.

Pleasure once tasted satisfies less than the desire experienced for its torments.

We distrust our heart too much, and our head not enough.

Since unhappiness excites interest, many, in order to render themselves interesting, feign unhappiness.

Present unhappiness is selfish; past sorrow is compassionate.