If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

Age imprints more wrinkles in the mind than it does on the face.

We only labor to stuff the memory, and leave the conscience and the understanding unfurnished and void.

Unless a man feels he has a good enough memory, he should never venture to lie.

The worst of my actions or conditions seem not so ugly unto me as I find it both ugly and base not to dare to avouch for them.