Self-love is often rather arrogant than blind; it does not hide our faults from ourselves, but persuades us that they escape the notice of others.
The highest panegyric, therefore, that private virtue can receive, is the praise of servants.
Life will not bear refinement. You must do as other people do.
Nay, Madam, when you are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.
Truth, Sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they are gone to milk the bull.
If a man could say nothing against a character but what he can prove, history could not be written.
Solitude is dangerous to reason, without being favorable to virtue. Remember that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad.
If you are idle, be not solitary; if you are solitary, be not idle.
Sorrow is the rust of the soul and activity will cleanse and brighten it.
There is no wisdom in useless and hopeless sorrow, but there is something in it so like virtue, that he who is wholly without it cannot be loved.
Sorrow is a kind of rust of the soul, which every new idea contributes in its passage to scour away. It is the putrefaction of stagnant life, and is remedied by exercise and motion.
When speculation has done its worst, two and two still make four.
Round numbers are always false.
It was his peculiar happiness that he scarcely ever found a stranger whom he did not leave a friend; but it must likewise be added, that he had not often a friend long without obliging him to become a stranger.
The mind is refrigerated by interruption; the thoughts are diverted from the principle subject; the reader is weary, he suspects not why; and at last throws away the book, which he has too diligently studied.