The mind can be but full. It will be as much filled with a small disagreeable occurrence, having no other, as with a large one.
What the unpenetrating world call Humanity, is often no more than a weak mind pitying itself.
Distresses, however heavy at the time, appear light, and even joyous, to the reflecting mind, when worthily overcome.
Superstitious notions propagated in infancy are hardly ever totally eradicate, not even in minds grown strong enough to despise the like credulous folly in others.
For the human mind is seldom at stay: If you do not grow better, you will most undoubtedly grow worse.
Friendship is the perfection of love, and superior to love; it is love purified, exalted, proved by experience and a consent of minds. Love, Madam, may, and love does, often stop short of friendship.