He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.
To be loved for what one is, is the greatest exception. The great majority love in others only what they lend him, their own selves, their version of him.
A man can stand almost anything except a succession of ordinary days.
Talents are best nurtured in solitude; character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world.
Our senses don't deceive us: our judgment does.
Nothing is more highly to be prized than the value of each day.
Who is the happiest of men? He who values the merits of others, and in their pleasure takes joy, even as though they were his own.