Nothing Is Given So Profusely

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.

Hope, Deceitful As It Is, Carries Us Through Life Agreeably Enough.

When Our Hatred Is Violent, It Sinks Us Even Beneath Those We Hate.

How Can We Expect Another To Keep Our Secret If We Have Been Unable To Keep It Ourselves?

We Are Easily Comforted For The Misfortunes Of Our Friends, When Those Misfortunes Give Us An Occasion Of Expressing Our Affection And Solicitude.