“Though I flatter myself that I am a philosopher, I am not a recluse. I love my books very dearly, as I do my flower-garden, my orchard, and my kail-yard, where... I grow very fine drum-head cabbages; but I also love at times to close my library door, to shut my garden gate, and go forth into the busy world, to mix with my fellows, hear their opinions and give them mine. On these occasions I endeavour to rub off the rust and mildew of a rural solitude, to acquire, I will not say a polish, but a certain smoothness, from the lubrication of social intercourse. At the same time cultivate my sympathies by laughing at human nature, whenever, as Beaumarchais says, I am not inclined to weep for it.”

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

“We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.”

“You win the victory when you yield to friends.”

“Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.”

“Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying but the never needing to say is what counts.”

“Never make friends with people who are above or below you in status. Such friendships will never give you any happiness.”