An honest man may really love a pretty girl, but only an idiot marries her merely because she is pretty.
I have, by long experience, found women to be like Telephus's spear: if one end kills, the other cures.
I love every-day senses, every-day wit and entertainment; a man who is only good on holidays, is good for very little.
Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight; and would hardly ever seduce us, if it did not at first wear the mask of some virtue.
All I can say, in answer to this kind queries [of friends] is that I have not the distemper called the Plague; but that I have all the plagues of old age, and of a shattered carcase.
Business by no means forbids pleasures; on the contrary, they reciprocally season each other; and I will venture to affirm that no man enjoys either in perfection that does not join both.
Gratitude is a burden upon our imperfect nature, and we are but too willing to ease ourselves of it, or at least to lighten it as much as we can.
Let us not only scatter benefits, but even strew flowers for our fellow-travellers, in the rugged ways of this wretched world.
If originally it was not good for a man to be alone, it is much worse for a sick man to be so; he thinks too much of his distemper, and magnifies it.
The only sure way of avoiding these evils [vanity and boasting] is never to speak of yourself at all. But when, historically, you are obliged to mention yourself, take care not to drop one single word that can directly or indirectly be construed as fishing for applause.