When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we are leaving them.

The name and pretense of virtue is as serviceable to self-interest as are real vices.

Our virtues are most frequently but vices in disguise.

Flattery is a kind of bad money, to which our vanity gives us currency.

The generality of virtuous women are like hidden treasures, they are safe only because nobody has sought after them.

Our concern for the loss of our friends is not always from a sense of their worth, but rather of our own need of them and that we have lost some who had a good opinion of us.