Popularity is neither fame nor greatness.

We are never so much disposed to quarrel with others as when we are dissatisfied with ourselves.

Diffidence and awkwardness are antidotes to love.

They are the only honest hypocrites, their life is a voluntary dream, a studied madness.

Conceit is vanity driven from all other shifts, and forced to appeal to itself for admiration.

The more we do, the more we can do.

We must be doing something to be happy.