Man spends his life in reasoning on the past, in complaining of the present, in fearing future.
It is the dim haze of mystery that adds enchantment to pursuit.
The only thing wealth does for some people is to make them worry about losing it.
The world is governed by love,--self-love.
The most civilized people are as near to barbarism as the most polished steel is to rust. Nations, like metals, have only a superficial brilliancy.
Ideas are a capital that bears interest only in the hands of talent.
The absolute ruler may be a Nero, but he is sometimes a Titus or Marc Aurelius; the people is often Nero, but never Marc Aurelius.
Of every ten persons who talk about you, nine will say something bad, and the tenth will say something good in a bad way.
Gold like the sun, which melts wax, but hardens clay, expands great souls.
There are men who gain from their wealth only the fear of losing it.
Generally speaking, there is more wit than talent in the world. Society swarms with witty people who lack talent.
Memory always obeys the commands of the heart.
The despotism of will in ideas is styled plan, project, character, obstinacy; its despotism in desires is called passion.
Opinions, theories, and systems pass by turns over the grindstone of time, which at first gives them brilliancy and sharpness, but finally wears them out.
The methods that help a man acquire a fortune are the very ones that keep him from enjoying it.
To lose one's self in reverie, one must be either very happy, or very unhappy. Reverie is the child of extremes.
Very nice couplet, although there are dull stretches.
History is only time furnished with dates and rich with events.
The modest man has everything to gain, and the arrogant man everything to lose; for modesty has always to deal with generosity, and arrogance with envy.
The subtle sauce of malice is often indulged in by maidens of uncertain age, over their tea.
Reason is an historian, but the passions are actors.
True felicity consists of its own consciousness.
It is said that friendship between women is only a suspension of hostilities.
Mind is the partial side of men; the heart is everything.
Rumor, once started, rushes on like a river, until it mingles with, and is lost in the sea.
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