When Our Vices Leave Us, We Like

It Is A Common Fault Never To Be Satisfied With Our Fortune, Nor Dissatisfied With Our Understanding.

The Art Of Putting Into Play Mediocre Qualities Often Begets More Reputation Than Is Achieved By True Merit.

No Man Deserves To Be Praised For His Goodness, Who Has It Not In His Power To Be Wicked. Goodness Without That Power Is Generally Nothing More Than Sloth, Or An Impotence Of Will.

We Sometimes Condemn The Present, By Praising The Past; And Show Our Contempt Of What Is Now, By Our Esteem For What Is No More.

The Thing That Makes Our Friendships So Short And Changeable Is That The Qualities And Dispositions Of The Soul Are Very Hard To Know, And Those Of The Understanding And Wit Very Easy.