CCXXXIV. The most violent friendships soonest wear themselves out.
CCXXXV. To be capable of steady friendship or lasting love, are the two greatest proofs, not only of goodness of heart, but of strength of mind.
CCXXXVI. It makes us proud when our love of a mistress is returned: it ought to make us prouder that we can love her for herself alone, without the aid of any such selfish reflection. This is the religion of love.
CCXXXVII. An English officer who had been engaged in an intrigue in Italy, going home one night, stumbled over a man fast asleep on the stairs. It was a bravo who had been hired to assassinate him. Such, in this man, was the force of conscience!
CCXXXVIII. An eminent artist having succeeded in a picture which drew crowds to admire it, received a letter from a shuffling old relation in these terms, ‘Dear Cousin, now you may draw good bills with a vengeance.’ Such is the force of habit! This man only wished to be a Raphael that he might carry on his old trade of drawing bills.
CCXXXIX. Mankind are a herd of knaves and fools. It is necessary to join the crowd, or get out of their way, in order not to be trampled to death by them.
CCXL. To think the worst of others, and to do the best we can ourselves, is a safe rule, but a hard one to practise.
CCXLI. To think ill of mankind and not wish ill to them, is perhaps the highest wisdom and virtue.
CCXLII. We may hate and love the same person, nay even at the same moment.
CCXLIII. We never hate those whom we have once loved, merely because they have injured us. ‘We may kill those of whom we are jealous,’ says Fielding, ‘but we do not hate them.’ We are enraged at their conduct and at ourselves as the objects of it, but this does not alter our passion for them. The reason is, we loved them without their loving us; we do not hate them because they hate us. Love may turn to indifference with possession, but is irritated by disappointment.