The land of marriage has this peculiarity: that strangers are desirous of inhabiting it, while its natural inhabitants would willingly be banished from thence.
The recognition of virtue is not less valuable from the lips of the man who hates it, since truth forces him to acknowledge it; and though he may be unwilling to take it into his inmost soul, he at least decks himself out in its trappings.
The archer who overshoots his mark does no better than he who falls short of it.
I consider it equal injustice to set our heart against natural pleasures and to set our heart too much on them. We should neither pursue them, nor flee them; we should accept them.
I would rather produce my passions than brood over them at my expense; they grow languid when they have vent and expression. It is better that their point should operate outwardly than be turned against us.
We do not marry for ourselves, whatever we say; we marry just as much or more for our posterity, for our family. The practice and benefit of marriage concerns our race very far beyond us.
Vexations may be petty, but they are vexations still.
Love is like playing the piano. First you must learn to play by the rules, then you must forget the rules and play from your heart. If I were pressed to say why I loved him, I feel that my only reply could be: Because it was he, because it was I.
If by being overstudious, we impair our health and spoil our good humor, let us give it up.
All permanent decisions are made in a temporary state of mind.
I turn my gaze inward. I fix it there and keep it busy. I look inside myself. I continually observe myself.
The pleasure we hold in esteem for the course of our lives ought to have a greater share of our time dedicated to it; we should refuse no occasion nor omit any opportunity of drinking, and always have it in our minds.
A volunteer, you assign yourself specific roles and risks according to your judgement of their brilliance and importance, and you see when life itself may be justifiably devoted to them.
Writing does not cause misery. It is born of misery.
We may so seize on virtue, that if we embrace it with an overgreedy and violent desire, it may become vicious.
There is a plague on Man, the opinion that he knows something.
Some, either from being glued to vice by a natural attachment, or from long habit, no longer recognize its ugliness.
A man should think less of what he eats and more with whom he eats because no food is so satisfying as good company.
To speak less of oneself than what one really is, is folly, not modesty; and to take that for current pay which is under a man’s value, is pusillanimity and cowardice.
A foreign war is a lot milder than a civil war.