The happiness and misery of men depend no less on temper than fortune.
A true friend is the most precious of all possessions and the one we take the least thought about acquiring.
We are so used to dissembling with others that in time we come to deceive and dissemble with ourselves.
When we disclaim praise, it is only showing our desire to be praised a second time.
Why can we remember the tiniest detail that has happened to us, and not remember how many times we have told it to the same person.
There is many a virtuous woman weary of her trade.
Though men are apt to flatter and exalt themselves with their great achievements, yet these are, in truth, very often owing not so much to design as chance.
Some counterfeits reproduce so very well the truth that it would be a flaw of judgment not to be deceived by them.
However greatly we distrust the sincerity of those we converse with, yet still we think they tell more truth to us than to anyone else.
Our enemies approach nearer to truth in their judgments of us than we do ourselves.
The happiness or unhappiness of men depends as much on their humors as on fortune.
When we cannot find contentment in ourselves it is useless to seek it elsewhere
When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere
What we call generosity is for the most part only the vanity of giving and we exercise it because we are more fond of that vanity than of the thing we give.
We say little, when vanity does not make us speak.
Flattery is a kind of bad money, to which our vanity gives us currency.
What makes vanity so insufferable to us, is that it hurts our own.
What is called generosity is usually only the vanity of giving we enjoy the vanity more than the thing given.
Funeral pomp is more for the vanity of the living than for the honor of the dead.
What keeps us from abandoning ourselves entirely to one vice, often, is the fact that we have several.
Women's virtue is frequently nothing but a regard to their own quiet and a tenderness for their reputation.
The name and pretense of virtue is as serviceable to self-interest as are real vices.
Hypocrisy is the homage vice pays to virtue.
It is only persons of firmness that can have real gentleness. Those who appear gentle are, in general, only a weak character, which easily changes into asperity.
Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire.