Let our lives be pure as snowfields, where our steps leave a mark but no stain.

Let us resist the opinion of the world fearlessly, provided only that our self-respect grows in proportion to our indifference.

Our faults afflict us more than our good deeds console. Pain is ever uppermost in the conscience as in the heart.

Years do not make sages; they only make old men.

Friendship is like those ancient altars where the unhappy, and even the guilty, found a sure asylum.

A good, finished scandal, fully armed and equipped, such as circulates in the world, is rarely the production of a single individual, or even of a single coterie. It sees the light in one; is rocked and nurtured in another; is petted, developed, and attains its growth in a third; and receives its finishing touches only after passing through a multitude of hands. It is a child that can count a host of fathers--all ready to disown it.

Only those faults which we encounter in ourselves are insufferable to us in others.