The player envies only the player, the poet envies only the poet.

We learn to curb our will and keep our overt actions within the bounds of humanity, long before we can subdue our sentiments and imaginations to the same mild tone.

The discussing the characters and foibles of common friends is a great sweetness and cement of friendship.

Malice often takes the garb of truth.

A life of action and danger moderates the dread of death.

Our opinions are not our own, but in the power of sympathy. If a person tells us a palpable falsehood, we not only dare not contradict him, but we dare hardly disbelieve him to his face. A lie boldly uttered has the effect of truth for the instant.

We are all of us, more or less, the slaves of opinion.