The foundation of domestic happiness is faith in the virtue of woman.

We are no longer happy so soon as we wish to be happier.

We may receive so much light as not to see, and so much philosophy as to be worse than foolish.

There is a gravity which is not austere nor captious, which belongs not to melancholy nor dwells in contraction of heart: but arises from tenderness and hangs upon reflection.

Wrong is but falsehood put in practice.

What is companionship where nothing that improves the intellect is communicated, and where the larger heart contracts itself to the model and dimension of the smaller?

The worse of ingratitude lies not in the ossified heart of him who commits it, but we find it in the effect it produces on him against whom it was committed.