The flame of anger, bright and brief, sharpens the barb of love.

We fancy we suffer from ingratitude, while in reality we suffer from self-love.

We enter our studies, and enjoy a society which we alone can bring together. We raise no jealousy by conversing with one in preference to another; we give no offence to the most illustrious by questioning him as long as we will, and leaving him as abruptly. Diversity of opinion raises no tumult in our presence: each interlocutor stands before us, speaks or is silent, and we adjourn or decide the business at our leisure.

Prose on certain occasions can bear a great deal of poetry; on the other hand, poetry sinks and swoons under a moderate weight of prose.

O what a thing is age! Death without death's quiet.

I hate false words, and seek with care, difficulty, and moroseness, those that fit the thing.

Virtue is presupposed in friendship.