Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.
Men imagine that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions, and do not see that virtue or vice emit a breath every moment.
Every vice is only an exaggeration of a necessary and virtuous function.
There is a capacity of virtue in us, and there is a capacity of vice to make your blood creep.
Pride eradicates all vices but itself.
The virtues of society are the vices of the saints.
Men wish to be saved from the mischiefs of their vices, but not from their vices.