People always complain about their memories, never about their minds.

Perfect Valor is to do, without a witness, all that we could do before the whole world.

Our actions seem to have their lucky and unlucky stars, to which a great part of that blame and that commendation is due which is given to the actions themselves.

Perfect behavior is born of complete indifference.

However rare true love may be, it is less so than true friendship.

People that are conceited of their own merit take pride in being unfortunate, that themselves and others may think them considerable enough to be the envy and the mark of fortune.

Men often pass from love to ambition, but they seldom come back again from ambition to love.

Passion makes idiots of the cleverest men, and makes the biggest idiots clever.

Our virtues are often, in reality, no better than vices disguised.

Our concern for the loss of our friends is not always from a sense of their worth, but rather of our own need of them and that we have lost some who had a good opinion of us.

Our aversion to lying is commonly a secret ambition to make what we say considerable, and have every word received with a religious respect.

As great minds have the faculty of saying a great deal in a few words, so lesser minds have a talent of talking much, and saying nothing.

I have always been an admirer. I regard the gift of admiration as indispensable if one is to amount to something; I don't know where I would be without it.

Few people have the wisdom to prefer the criticism that would do them good, to the praise that deceives them.

Everyone complains of his memory, and nobody complains of his judgment.