We Bear, All Of Us, The Misfortunes

All Women Seem By Nature To Be Coquettes.

Absence Cools Moderate Passions, And Inflames Violent Ones; Just As The Wind Blows Out Candles, But Kindles Fires.

The Evil That We Do Does Not Attract To Us So Much Persecution And Hatred As Our Good Qualities.

We Torment Ourselves Rather To Make It Appear That We Are Happy Than To Become So.

Nothing Is So Catching As Example.