Vanity Is The Quicksand Of Reason.

I'm Not Full Of Virtues And Noble Qualities. I Love, But I Love Strongly, Exclusive, Stedfasty.

One Is Happy As A Result Of One's Own Efforts, Once One Knows Of The Necessary Ingredients Of Happiness-simple Tastes, A Certain Degree Of Courage, Self-denial To A Point, Love Of Work, And, Above All, A Clear Conscience. Happiness Is No Vague Dream, Of That I Now Feel Certain.

The Beauty That Addresses Itself To The Eyes Is Only The Spell Of The Moment; The Eye Of The Body Is Not Always That Of The Soul.

Time Is Always Wanting To Me, And I Cannot Meet With A Single Day When I Am Nut Hurried Along, Driven To By Wits'-end By Urgent Work, Business To Attent Do Or Some Service To Render.

Vanity Is The Most Despotic And Iniquitous Of Masters, And I Can Never Be The Slave Of My Own Vices.