Nothing Blocks Happiness Like Happiness Remembered.

Sadness Is Almost Never Anything But A Form Of Fatigue.

I Can't Expect Others To Share My Virtues. It's Good Enough For Me If They Share My Vices.

The Finest Virtues Can Become Deformed With Age. The Precise Mind Becomes Finicky; The Thrifty Man, Miserly; The Cautious Man, Timorous; The Man Of Imagination, Fanciful. Even Perseverance Ends Up In A Sort Of Stupidity. Just As, On The Other Hand, Being Too Willing To Understand Too Many Opinions, Too Diverse Ways Of Seeing, Constancy Is Lost And The Mind Goes Astray In A Restless Fickleness.

Each Of Us Really Understands In Others Only Those Feelings He Is Capable Of Producing Himself.

There's A Law In Life: Whenever A Door Closes, A New One Will Open.