A hypocrite despises those whom he deceives, but has no respect for himself. He would make a dupe of himself too, if he could.

The confession of our failings is a thankless office. It savors less of sincerity or modesty than of ostentation. It seems as if we thought our weaknesses as good as other people's virtues.

A man who does not endeavour to seem more than he is will generally be thought nothing of. We habitually make such large deductions for pretence and imposture that no real merit will stand against them. It is necessary to set off our good qualities with a certain air of plausibility and self-importance, as some attention to fashion is necessary.

It is better to be able neither to read nor write than to be able to do nothing else.

The love of letters is the forlorn hope of the man of letters. His ruling passion is the love of fame.

We do not like our friends the worse because they sometimes give us an opportunity to rail at them heartily. Their faults reconcile us to their virtues.

No really great man ever thought himself so.