Francois de La Rochefoucauld Kind Quotations

A man cannot please long who has only one kind of wit.

There is a kind of elevation which does not depend on fortune; it is a certain air which distinguishes us, and seems to destine us for great things; it is a price which we imperceptibly set upon ourselves.

One kind of flirtation is to boast we never flirt.

There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand imitations.

We would frequently be ashamed of our good deeds if people saw all of the motives that produced them.

We should only affect compassion, and carefully avoid having any.

To boast that one never flirts is actually a kind of flirtation.

Too great haste to repay an obligation is a kind of ingratitude.

A great many men's gratitude is nothing but a secret desire to hook in more valuable kindnesses hereafter.

One kind of happiness is to know exactly at what point to be miserable.

That which occasions so many mistakes in the computations of men, when they expect return for favors, is that the giver's pride and the receiver's cannot agree upon the value of the kindness done.

In most of mankind gratitude is merely a secret hope of further favors.

No one thinks fortune so blind as those she has been least kind to.

Even the most disinterested love is, after all, but a kind of bargain, in which self-love always proposes to be the gainer one wayor another.

When we enlarge upon the affection our friends have for us, this is very often not so much out of a sense of gratitude as from a desire to persuade people of our own great worth, that can deserve so much kindness.

If one judges love according to the greatest part of the effects it produces, it would appear to resemble rather hatred than kindness.

Pity is a sense of our own misfortunes in those of another man; it is a sort of foresight of the disasters which may befall ourselves. We assist others,, in order that they may assist us on like occasions; so that the services we offer to the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses to ourselves.

There is a kind of love, the excess of which forbids jealousy.