“Not all those who know their minds know their hearts as well.”

In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find something not altogether displeasing to us.

We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.

What seems to be generosity is often no more than disguised ambition, which overlooks a small interest in order to secure a great one.

We are more often treacherous through weakness than through calculation.

Though nature be ever so generous, yet can she not make a hero alone. Fortune must contribute her part too; and till both concur, the work cannot be perfected.

We are strong enough to bear the misfortunes of others.

The heart is forever making the head its fool.

A man’s worth has its season, like fruit.

Taste may change, but inclination never.

Jealousy lives upon doubts. It becomes madness or ceases entirely as soon as we pass from doubt to certainty.

The passions are the only orators which always persuade.

Funeral pomp is more for the vanity of the living than for the honor of the dead.

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

The mind is always the patsy of the heart.

The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body; after all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind, and they are in continual danger of breaking the skin and bursting out again.

There are crimes which become innocent and even glorious through their splendor, number and excess.

When I’m stylizing, it’s all about accessories.

There’s a way that you can throw negativity out there that seems rebellious. But I’ve always taken pleasure in a different kind of rebellion, which is putting a positive spin on everything, trying to enjoy myself at all times.

We spend our lives, all of us, waiting for the great day, the great battle, or the deed of power..

It is a monstrous thing that I will say, but I will say it all the same: I find in many things more restraint and order in my morals than in my opinions, and my lust less depraved than my reason.

Political work is the life-blood of all economic work.

One in ten thousand of us can make a technological breakthrough capable of supporting all the rest.

Neither the Christian attitude of love for all mankind nor humane hopes for an organized society must cause us to forget that the ‘human stratum’ may not be homogeneous.

Too bad all the people who know how to run this country are busy running taxicabs or cutting hair.