• "Quarrels would not last so long if the fault were only on one side."
• "Quarrels would not last long if the fault were only on one side."

The ambitious deceive themselves in proposing an end to their ambition; for that end, when attained, becomes a means.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶32]

When the ambitious propose an end to their ambition, they deceive themselves; for, when attained, the end becomes a mean.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶29]

It may be further affirmed, that Valour in Men, and Chastity in Women, two qualifications which make so much noise in the World, are the products of Vanity and Shame, and principally of their particular Temperaments.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶94]

And we are much mistaken, if we think that Men are always stout from a principle of Valour, or Women chast from a principle of Modesty.
[tr. Stanhope (1694)]

It is not always from the principles of valour and chastity that men are valiant, and that women are chaste.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶446]

It is not always from valor and from chastity that men are valiant, and that women are chaste.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶2]

It is not always from valour or from chastity that men are brave, and women chaste.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

Men are not always brave because courageous, nor women chaste because virtuous.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

So it is not always courage that makes the hero, nor modesty the chaste woman.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]

It is not always valor which makes men valiant, nor chastity that renders women chaste.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

And it is not always through valor and chastity that men are valiant and women chaste.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

It is not always because of bravery or chastity that men are brave, and women chaste.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

We are liberal of our remonstrances and reprehensions towards those, whom we think guilty of miscarriages; but we therein betray more pride, than charity. Our reproving them does not so much proceed from any desire in us of their reformation, as from an insinuation that we our selves are not chargeable with the like faults.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶142]

Pride hath a greater share than Goodness in the reproofs we give other people for their faults; and we chide them, not so much with a design to mend them, as to make them believe that we ourselves are not guilty of them.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶38]

Pride is more concerned than benevolence in our remonstrances to persons guilty of faults; and we reprove them not so much with a design to correct, as to make them believe that we ourselves are free from such failings.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶349; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶37]

In our reprehensions, pride has a greater share than good nature. We reprove, not so much in order to correct, as to intimate that we hold ourselves free from such failings.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶309]

Pride has a greater share than goodness of heart in the remonstrances we make to those who are guilty of faults; we reprove not so much with a view to correct them as to persuade them that we are exempt from those faults ourselves.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶38]

Pride has a larger part than goodness in our remonstrances with those who commit faults, and we reprove them not so much to correct as to persuade them that we ourselves are free from faults.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶37]

Pride, rather than virtue, makes us reprove those who have done wrong; our reproaches are not so much intended to improve the evil-doer, as to show him that we are quite free of his taint.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶37]

Pride plays a greater part than kindness in our remonstrating with those who make mistakes; and we point out their faults, less to correct them than to indicate they are not ours.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶37]

Pride plays a greater part than kindness in the reprimands we address to wrongdoers; we reprove them not so much to reform them as to make them believe that we are free from their faults.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶37]

Pride shares a greater part than the goodness of our hearts in the reprimands we give to those who commit faults; and we do not reprove so much in order to correct them, as in order to persuade them that we are ourselves exempt from those faults.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶37]

They that use to employ their minds too much upon Trifles, commonly make themselves incapable of any thing that is serious or great.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶42]

Those who apply themselves too much to little things, commonly become incapable of great ones.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶38; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶41]]

Those who apply themselves much to little things, commonly become incapable of great ones.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶35]

Those who bestow too much application on trifling things, become generally incapable of great ones.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶42]

Those who apply themselves too closely to little things often become incapable of great things.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

Undue attention to details tends to unfit us for greater enterprises.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

Too close attention to trifles generally breeds incapacity in matters of moment.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]

Men too involved in details usually become unable to deal with great matters.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

People too much taken up with little things usually become incapable of big ones.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

Those who apply themselves too much to little things, ordinarily become incapable of great ones.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

One is never so unhappy as one fears, nor so happy as one hopes.
[On n’est jamais si malheureux qu’on craint, ni si heureux qu’on espère.] 

Les biens et les maux sont plus grands dans notre imagination qu’ils ne le sont en effet, et on n’est jamais si heureux ni si malheureux que l’on pense.

Goods and Evils are much greater in our imaginations of them, than they are in effect; and men are never so happy or unhappy, as they think themselves.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶128; see above.]

None are either so happy or so unhappy, as they imagine.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶211; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶49]

No person is either so happy;, or so unhappy, as he imagines.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶184]

We are never so happy, or so unhappy, as we imagine.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶50]

We are never so happy or so unhappy as we suppose.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871); tr. Stevens (1939)]

We are never as happy or unhappy as we think.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

We are never so happy or so unhappy as we think.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

We are never as fortunate or as unfortunate as we suppose.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

We are never so happy nor so unhappy as we imagine.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

The contempt of wealth, in the Philosophers, was a secret desire of vindicating their merit, against the injustice of Fortune, by an affected slighting of those goods, whereof she depriv'd them. It was an humorous secret, which they had found out, to indemnifie themselves from the disparagement accessory to Poverty. In fine, it was a winding path, or by-way to get into that esteem, which they could not obtain by Riches.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶170]

When the Philosophers despised Riches, it was because they had a mind to vindicate their own Merit, and take a Revenge upon the injustice of Fortune, by vilifying those Enjoyments which She had not given them: This was a secret to ward off the Contempt that Poverty brings, a kind of winding By-path to get into the Esteem of the World, and when Riches had not made them considerable, to make themselves so some other way.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶55]

The contempt of riches in the philosophers was a concealed desire of revenging on Fortune the injustice done to their merit, by despising the good she denied them. It was a secret to shelter them from the ignominy of poverty ; a bye-way to arrive at the esteem they could not procure by wealth.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶341; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶54]

Contempt of riches in the old philosophers was a concealed desire of revenge, by despising the good which Fortune had denied them. It was an artful shelter from the disgrace of poverty: a by-way to arrive at that esteem which they could not procure by wealth.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶301]

The contempt of riches among the philosophers was a hidden desire to revenge their merit for the injustice of Fortune, by contempt of the very advantages of which she deprived them. It was a secret to secure themselves from the degradation of poverty: it was a by road to arrive at that consideration which they could not obtain by riches.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶55]

The contempt of riches in philosophers was only a hidden desire to avenge their merit upon the injustice of fortune, by despising the very goods of which fortune had deprived them; it was a secret to guard themselves against the degradation of poverty, it was a back way by which to arrive at that distinction which they could not gain by riches.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

The Philosophers' scorn of wealth was but their secret ambition to exalt their merit above fortune by deriding those blessings which Fate denied them. It was a ruse to shield them from the sordidness of poverty, and a subterfuge to attain that distinction which they could not achieve by wealth.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

Contempt of wealth was, among the early philosophers, due to a secret desire to vindicate their worth agaiunst the malignity of fate, by affecting to despise those very gifts of which it deprived them. It was a means of insurance against the ignominy of poverty, a round-about way of acquiring the esteem they were unable to command by the possession of wealth.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]

Philosophers have expressed their contempt for material riches; they thus reveal their wish to vindicate their merit on their fate by displaying their contempt for those gifts which fate has withheld from them; it is a secret remedy to save them from those degradations which poverty entails; it is also an indirect method for obtaining that respect which they cannot gain through wealth.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

The scorn for riches displayed by the philosophers was a secrete desire to recompense their own merit for the injustice of Fortune by scorning those very benefits she had denied them; it it was a private way of remaining unsullied by poverty, a devious path towards the high respect they could not command by wealth.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

The contempt which philosophers professed for wealth, was but a hidden desire of getting revenge for their merit upon the injustice of Fortune, by despising those goods of which she had deprived them: it was a secret by which to protect themselves against the degradation of poverty; it was an alternate path by which to gain that consideration which they had not been able to attain through riches.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

One could say that there are no lucky or unfortunate accidents, because clever people know how to take advantage of bad ones, and the imprudent very often turn the most advantageous harm to themselves.

[On pourrait dire qu’il n’y a point d’heurcux ni de malheureux accidents, parce que les habiles gens savent profiter des mauvais, et que les imprudents tournent bien souvent à leur préjudice les plus avantageux.]

It may be affirm'd that either there are not any happy or unhappy accidents, or that all accidents are both happy and unhappy, inasmuch as the prudent know how to make their advantages of the bad, and the imprudent many times turn the most advantageous emergencies to their own prejudice.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶128]

There is no accident so exquisitely unfortunate, but wise Men will make some advantage of it; nor any so entirely fortunate, but Fools may turn it to their own prejudice.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶60]

No accidents are so unlucky, but that the prudent may draw some advantage from them: nor are there any so lucky, but what the imprudent may turn to their prejudice.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶8; [ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶58]

No accidents are so unlucky, but what the prudent may draw some advantages from; nor are there any so lucky, but what the imprudent may turn to their prejudice.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶5]

There are no circumstances, however unfortunate, that clever people do not extract some advantage from; and none, however fortune, that the imprudent cannot turn to their own prejudice.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶60]

There are no accidents so unfortunate from which skillful men will not draw some advantage, nor so fortunate that foolish men will not turn them to their hurt.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

A clever man reaps some benefit from the worst catastrophe, and a fool can turn even good luck to his disadvantage.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

No event is so disastrous that the adroit cannot derive some benefit from it, nor so auspicious that fools cannot turn it to their detriment.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]

There is no accident so disastrous that a clever man cannot derive some profit from it: nor any so fortunate that a fool cannot turn it to his disadvantage.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

There are no experiences so disastrous that thoughtful men cannot derive some profit from them, nor so happy that the thoughtless cannot use them to their harm.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

There are no accidents so unfortunate that clever men may not draw some advantage from them, nor so fortunate that imprudent men may not turn them to their own detriment.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

Un habile homme doit savoir régler le rang de ses intérêts et les conduire chacun dans son ordre. Notre avidité le trouble souvent en nous faisant courir à tant de choses à la fois que, pour désirer trop les moins importantes, nous ne les faisons pas assez servir à obtenir les plus considérables.

In this the prudent man is distinguishable from the imprudent, that he regulates his interests, and directs them to the prosecution of his designs each in their order. Our earnestness does many times raise a disturbance in them, by hurrying us after a hundred things at once. Thence it proceeds, that out of an excessive desire of the less important, we do not what is requisite for the attainment of the most considerable.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶165]

A wise Man should order his Designs, and set all his Interests in their proper places. This Order is often disturbed by a foolish greediness, which, while it puts us upon pursuing several things at once, makes us eager for matters of less consideration; and while we grasp at trifles, we let go things of greater Value.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶67]

An able man will arrange his interests, and conduct each in its proper order. Our greediness often hurts us, by making us prosecute so many things at once; by too earnestly desiring the less considerable, we lose the more important.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶205; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶65]

An able man will arrange his respective interests;, and conduct each in its proper order. Ambition is often injurious, by tempting us to prosecute too much at once. By earnestly desiring the less considerable, we lose the more important.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶473]

A clever man should regulate his interests, and place them in proper order. Our avidity often deranges them by inducing us to undertake too many things at once; and by grasping at minor objects, we lose our hold of more important ones.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶67]

A clever man ought to so regulate his interests that each will fall in due order. Our greediness so often troubles us, making us run after so many things at the same time, that while we too eagerly look after the least we miss the greatest.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

A wise man co-ordinates his interests, and develops them according to their merits. Cupidity defeats its own ends by following so many at once that in our greed for trifles we lose sight of important matters.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

A clever man will know how to range his interests, and will pursue each according to its merits. Our greed, however, will often confuse our method; for we run after so many things at once that we frequently miss what is of importance in pursuit of what is negligible.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

Clever men should arrange their desires in the proper order and seek each in turn. In our eagerness we often attempt too many things at once, and by striving too much after the small ones we lose the big.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

A wise man ought to arrange his interests in their true order of importance. Our greed often disturbs this order by making us pursue so many things at once that, for too much desiring the least important, we miss those that are most so.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

Great and heroick actions which dazle their eyes who consider them, are represented by Politicians, as if they were the effects of great Interests; whereas they are ordinarily the effects of humour and passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Marc Antony, which some imputed to the Ambition they had of aspiring to the Empire of the World, was an effect of their mutual jealousie.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶104]

Those great and glorious Actions, that even dazle our Eyes with their Lustre, are represented by Politicians as the result of great Wisdom and excellent design; whereas in truth, they are commonly the effects of Passion and Humour. Thus the War between Augustus and Antony, which is usually thought to proceed from Greatness of Soul, and the Ambition each of them had to become Master of the World, was very probably no more than Envy and Emulation.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶8]

Great actions, the lustre of which dazzles us, are represented by politicians as the effects of deep design; whereas they are commonly the effects of caprice and passion. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, supposed to be owing to their ambition to give a master to the world, arose probably from jealousy.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶10; [ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶7]

Great actions, the lustre of which dazzles us, are by politicians represented as the effects of deep design, whereas they are commonly the effects of caprice and passion. Thus the war between Augustus and Anthony, supposed to be owing to the ambition of giving a master to the world, arose probably from jealousy.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶7]

Those great and brilliant actions which dazzle our eyes, are represented by politicians as the effects of great designs, instead of which they are commonly the effects of caprice and of the passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, which is attributed to the ambition they had of making themselves masters of the world, was, perhaps, nothing but a result of jealousy.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶8]

Great and striking actions which dazzle the eyes are represented by politicians as the effect of great designs, instead of which they are commonly caused by the temper and the passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Anthony, which is set down to the ambition they entertained of making themselves masters of the world, was probably but an effect of jealousy.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶7]

Historians would have us believe that the most dazzling deeds are the results of deep-laid plans; more often they are the reuslts of men's moods and passions. Thus the war that Augustus waged against Antony, caused, we are told, by their ambition to be masters of the world, was, perchance, but the outcome of jealousy.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶7]

Statesmen will often present those great and striking deeds with which they dazzle our eyes as the outcome of some grand design, whereas in fact they are usually the product of mood and of emotion. Thus the struggle between Augustus and Mark Anthony, portrayed as the result of their conflicting ambition each to become sole master of the world, was perhaps caused simply by mutual jealousy.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶7]

Politicians explain great and resplendent deeds that dazzle the eye as born of high purpose, where for the most part they derive from whim or passion. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, which we ascribe to their equal ambition to rule the world, was no more, perhaps, than the result of jealousy.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶7]

Great and glorious events which dazzle the beholder are represented by politicians as the outcome of grand designs, whereas they are usually products of temperaments and passions. Thus the war between ‘Augustus and Antony, attributed to their passion to seize the mastery of the world, was probably nothing more than a result of jealousy.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶7]

Those great and brilliant actions that dazzle the eyes of men are represented by politicians as being the effects of great designs; but they are usually the results of temper and the passions. Thus the war between Augustus and Antony, which is supposed to be due to the ambition they both had of making themselves the masters of the world, was perhaps nothing more than an effect of jealousy.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶7]

There are few people who are not ashamed of their amours when the fit is over.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶271; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶69]

Most people are ashamed of their amours when the fit is over.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶232]

There are very few people who, when their love is over, are not ashamed of having been in love.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶181]

There are few people who would not be ashamed of being beloved when they love no longer.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

There are few of us who are not ashamed of a mutual passion when love has died.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶177]

When two people have ceased to love, the memory that remains is almost always one of shame.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

Few people, when they love no longer, but feel shame for having loved.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

There are few people who, when their love for each other is dead, are not ashamed of that love.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

There are few people who are not ashamed of having loved each other when they no longer do so.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

Every body complains for want of Memory; but you never find any body complain of the Weakness of his Judgment.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶90]

Every one complains of the badness of his memory, but nobody of his judgment.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶263; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶86]

Of the want of memory every one complains;, but nobody of the want of judgment.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶263]

Every one complains of his memory, and no one complains of his judgment.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶92]

Everyone blames his memory, no one blames his judgment.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶89]

Everyone blames his memory, no one his judgment.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶89]

Everyone finds fault with his memory, but none with his judgement.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶89]

Everyone complains of his memory, none of his judgment.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶89]

Everyone complains of his memory and no one complains of his judgment.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶89]

Everybody complains of his memory, but nobody of his judgment.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶89]

Everybody complains of his memory; but when did you ever hear anybody complain about his judgement?
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶89]

We are often more agreeable through our faults, than through our good qualities.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶130; [ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶97]

We often appear to be more agreeable in our faults than in our good qualities.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶114]

In the intercourse of life we more often please by our faults than our good qualities.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶232]

In the intercourse of life, we please more by our faults than by our good qualities.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶90]

In everyday existence we please others more by our faults than by our merits.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶228]

In the ordinary intercourse of life our faults give more pleasure than our virtues.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶90]

In daily life our faults are frequently more pleasant than our good qualities.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶90]

In the business of living our faults are often more attractive than our virtues.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶90]

In our dealings with the world, we often please more by our faults than by our good qualities.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶90]

There are some who are disgusting in their merits, and others who please with their faults.
[tr. Winchello (2016), ¶155]
 
[Il y a des gens dégoûtants avec du mérite, et d’autres qui plaisent avec des défauts.]
[1st ed.]

There are people whose faults beseem them well, and others whose good qualities disgrace them.
[tr. Winchello (2016), ¶251]
 
[Il y a des personnes à qui les défauts siéent bien, et d’autres qui sont disgraciées avec leurs bonnes qualités.]
[1st ed.]

There are people who enjoy the approval of the world whose sole merit consists in their having vices that are useful in the general affairs of life.
[tr. Winchello (2016), ¶273]
 
[Il y a des gens, qu’on approuve dans le monde, qui n’ont pour tout mérite que les vices qui servent au commerce de la vie.]
[1st ed.]

There are certain faults which, when displayed in a flattering light, shine more brightly than virtue itself.
[tr. Winchello (2016), ¶354]
 
[Il y a de certains défauts qui, bien mis en œuvre, brillent plus que la vertu même.]
[4th ed.]

There are bad qualities which make for great talents.
[tr. Winchello (2016), ¶468]
 
[Il y a de méchantes qualités qui font de grands talents.]
[5th ed.]

Old Folks love mightily to give good Advice, because this makes them some sort of Amends, for being incapable now of setting Ill Examples.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶94]

Old-age gives good advice, when it is no longer able to give bad example.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶322; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶90]

Old men; are fond of giving good advice, to console themselves for being no longer in a position to give bad examples.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶97]

Old people like to give good advice, since they can no longer set bad examples.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶93]

Old people are fond of giving good advice to console themselves for being no longer able to give bad examples.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶93]

Old people love to give good advice: it compensates them for their inability nowadays to set a bad example.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶93]

Old men love to give good advice to console themselves for not being able to set bad examples.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶93]

Old people are fond of giving good advice; it consoles them for no longer being capable of setting a bad example.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶93]

Old men love to give good precepts in order to console themselves for no longer being able to set bad examples.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶93]

He that fansies such a sufficiency in himself, that he can live without all the World, is mightily mistaken; but he that imagines himself so necessary, that other people cannot live without him, is a great deal more mistaken.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶202]

He who imagines he can do without the world deceives himself much; but he who fancies the world cannot do without him is still more mistaken.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶93; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶192]

He who thinks he can find in himself the means of doing without others is much mistaken; but he who thinks that others cannot do without him is still more mistaken.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶210]

He who thinks he has the power to content the world greatly deceives himself, but he who thinks that the world cannot be content with him deceives himself yet more.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶201]

The man who thinks he can do without the world errs; but the man who thinks the world can [sic] do without him is in still greater error.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶206]

It is a great mistake for a man to suppose that he can dispense with the world; but it is a much greater one to suppose that the world cannot dispense with him.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶201]

A man who believes that his inner resources are such that he can dispense with his fellow-men is committing a serious mistake: it is not, however, so serious as that of the man who believes himself indispensable to others.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶201]

The man who thinks he can do without the world is indeed mistaken; but the man who thinks the world cannot do without him is mistaken even worse.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶201]

The man who thinks he can find enough in himself to be able to dispense with everybody else makes a great mistake, but the man who thinks he is indispensable to others makes an even greater.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶201]

He who believes that he can make do without any one else in the world, is very mistaken; but he who believes that nobody in the world could make do without him, deceives himself still more greatly.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶201]

La philosophie triomphe aisément des maux passés et de ceux qu’un ne sont pas prêts d’arriver; mais les maux présents triomphent d'elle.
(1665)]

La philosophie ne fait des merveilles que contre les maux passés ou contre ceux qui ne sont pas prêts d’arriver, mais elle n’a pas grande vertu contre les maux présents.
[Manuscript]

Philosophy may easily triumph over Evils past, as also over those not yet ready to assault a man; but the present triumph over it.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶87]

Philosophy finds it an easie matter to vanquish past and future Evils, but the present are commonly too hard for it.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶23]

Philosophy easily triumphs over past and future ills; but present ills triumph over philosophy.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), "Ills" ¶242]

Philosophy easily triumphs over ills both past and future; but present ills triumph over philosophy.
[ed. Carville (1835), "Ills" ¶211]

Philosophy easily triumphs over past and future ills: but religion only triumphs over the present ones.
[ed. Carville (1835), "Philosophers" ¶303]

Philosophy triumphs easily over past, and over future evils, but present evils triumph over philosophy.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶23]

Philosophy triumphs easily over past evils and future evils; but present evils triumph over it.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

Philosophy easily masters past and future ills, but the sorrow of the moment is the master of philosophy.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

Philosophy easily conquers both past and future misfortunes, but is conquered by the misfortunes of the moment.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]

Philosophy can easily triumph over past misfortunes and over those that lie ahead: but the misfortunes of the present will triumph over our philosophy.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

Philosophy triumphs with ease over misfortunes past and to come, but present misfortunes triumph over it.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

Philosophy triumphs easily over past and future evils; but present evils triumph over it.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

Our Promises are always made with a reflection on our Hopes, and perform'd according to our fears.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶16]

We promise in proportion to our Hopes,
and we keep in proportion to our Fears
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶39]

We promise in proportion to our Hopes, and we keep our Word in proportion to our Fears.
[tr. Stanhope (1706), ¶39]

We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶357; [ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797); ed. Gowens (1851), ¶39]

We promise according to our hopes; we perform according to our fears.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶463; tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

Promises are measured by hope; performances by fear.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

Our promises are measured by our hopes; our performances by our fears.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]

Our promises are made in hope, and kept in fear.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

Our promises are made in proportion to our hopes, but kept in proportion to our fears.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

We make promises according to our hopes, and keep them according to our fears.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

It is with True Love, as with Ghosts and Apparitions, a thing that every body talks of, and scarce any body hath seen.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶77]

It is with true love as with apparitions. Every one talks of it, but few have ever seen it.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶80]

There is real love just as there are real ghosts; every person speaks of it, few persons have seen it.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

True love is like a ghost; everyone talks of it, few have seen it.
[tr. Heard (1917)]

True love is like psychic experience. Everybody tells ghost stories but few of us have ever seen a ghost.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

True love is like seeing ghosts; we all talk about it, but few of us have ever seen one.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959)]

True love is like ghostly apparitions: everybody talks about them but few have ever seen one.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

It is with true love as it is with ghosts: everybody talks about it, but few have seen it.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

In the greatest part of men, [the Love of Justice] is only a fear of suffering injustice.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶39]

What the Generality of People call the Love of Justice, is only the Fear of suffering by Injustice.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶79]

The love of justice in most men, is the fear of suffering by injustice.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶264]

The love of Justice, in most men, is the fear of suffering by injustice.
[ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶75]

The love of justice often means no more than the fear of suffering by injustice.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶452]

Love of justice in the generality of men is only the fear of suffering from injustice.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶84]

The love of justice is simply in the majority of men the fear of suffering injustice.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶78]

In most men love of justice is but the fear of suffering injustice.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶78]

Love of justice is in most cases merely fear of suffering injustice.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶78]

For most men the love of justice is only the fear of suffering injustice.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶78]

Love of justice, in most men, is only a fear of encountering injustice.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶78]

Love of justice in most men is merely the fear of suffering injustice.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶78]

Justice is no more than a lively fear that our belongings will be taken away from us. This is at the root of men's consideration and respect for all the interests of others, and their scrupulous care never to do them wrong. This fear keeps a man within the bounds marked out for him by his birth or fortune, and without it he would constantly be encroaching on the rights of others.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

[La justice n’est qu’une vive appréhension qu’on ne nous ôte ce qui nous appartient ; de là vient cette considération et ce respect pour tous les intérêts du prochain, et cette scrupuleuse application à ne lui faire aucun préjudice. Cette crainte retient l’homme dans les bornes des biens que la naissance ou la fortune lui ont donnés ; et sans cette crainte, il feroit des courses continuelles sur les autres.]
(Source)

People hate injustice not through distaste for it but because of the harm it does them.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]

[On blâme l’injustice, non pas par l’aversion que l’on a pour elle, mais pour le préjudice que l’on en reçoit.]
(Source)

It is much less for a Man's Honour to distrust his Friends, than to be deceived by them.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶85]

It is more dishonourable to distrust a friend, than to be deceived by him.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶171; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶81; ed. Carvill (1835), ¶151]

It is more disgraceful to distrust; one's friends than to be deceived by them.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶87]

It is more disgraceful to distrust than to be deceived by our friends.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶84]

It is more disgraceful to mistrust one's friends than to be the victim of their treachery.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶84]

It is more shameful to distrust one's friends than to be deceived by them.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶84; tr. Tancock (1959), ¶84]

It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶84; tr. Whichello (2016), ¶84]

There are pretty things that the mind does not seek, and that it finds all completed in itself; it seems that they are hidden there, like gold and diamonds in the bosom of the earth.
 
[Il y a des jolies choses que l’esprit ne cherche point, et qu’il trouve toutes achevées en lui-même; il semble qu’elles y soient cachées, comme l’or et les diamants dans le sein de la terre.]

There are certain ingenious things which the mind seeks not after, but finds brought to their full perfection in it self; so that it should seem they lay hid there, as Gold and Diamonds do in the bosom of the earth.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶190]

It often happens, that some things offer themselves to our Wit, and are finer description in the very first thought, than it is possible for a man to make them by the Additions of Art and Study.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶102]

It often happens, that some Things offer themselves finer in the very first Thought, than it were possible for a Man to have made them by Art and Study.
[pub. Donaldson (1783)]

It often happens, that things present themselves to the mind; more finished, than we, with much labour, can make them.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶391]

It often happens; that things present themselves to our minds in a more complete state than we could by much art make them arrive at.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶104]

Ideas often flash across our minds more complete than we could make them after much labour.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶101]

It often happens that ideas reach our mind in a state of perfection exceeding that which our intellect, with all the resources of art, could fashion.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶101]

Things often spring spontaneously to mind in a more finished form than could be achieved with great labor and thought.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶101]

Many People are Acquainted with their own Wit, that are not Acquainted with their own Heart.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶104]

Many People are acquainted with their own Abilities, that are not acquainted with their own Hearts.
[tr. Stanhope (1706), ¶104]

Men are sometimes well acquainted with their head, when they are not so with their heart.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶216; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶100]

A man may be well acquainted; with his head, whilst he is far from being so with his heart.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶188]

It is not all who know their heads who know their hearts.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶106]

Those who know their minds do not necessarily know their hearts.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶103]

Those who know their minds best, know their hearts least.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶103]

Not every one who knows his own mind knows his own heart also.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶103]

Not all those who know their minds know their hearts as well.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶103]

Not everyone who understands his own mind understands his heart.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶103]

All those who know their minds do not necessarily know their hearts.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶103]

There is no pleasure that one gives more willingly to a friend than that of giving him advice.

[Il n’y a point de plaisir qu’on fasse plus volontiers à un ami que celui de lui donner conseil.]

There is nothing that Men are so free of, as their Advice.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶111]

There is nothing of which we are so liberal as of advice.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶18; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶107]

Of nothing are we so liberal as advice.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶15]

We give away nothing so liberally as advice.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶113]

Nothing is given so profusely as advice.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶110]

We are never as liberal as with advice.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶110]

We are free with nothing so much as with our advice.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶110]

There is nothing we give more lavishly than our advice.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶110]

We give nothing so liberally as our advice.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶110]

We give nothing so liberally as advice.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶110]

It is as easie for a man to be self-deceiv'd, without being sensible of it, as it is hard to deceive others, without their perceiving it.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶18]

It is as easie a matter to deceive a Mans self, and not be sensible of it, as it is hard to impose upon others, and yet for them not to be sensible of it.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶116]

It is as easy to deceive ourselves without our perceivng it, as it is difficult to deceive others without their perceiving it.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶90; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶112]

It is as easy to deceive ourselves; without perceiving it, as it is difficult to deceive others without being perceived.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶78]

It is as easy unwittingly to deceive oneself as to deceive others.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶115]

It is as easy to deceive ourselves without realizing it, as it is hard to avoid detection in our deception of others.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶115]

It is as easy to delude ourselves unknowingly, as it is difficult to delude others without their knowing it.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶115]

It is as easy to deceive oneself without noticing it as it is difficult to deceive others without their realizing the deception.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶115]

It is as easy to deceive ourselves without knowing it as it is hard to deceive others without their finding it out.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶115]

It is as easy to deceive ourselves without noticing it as it is hard to deceive others without their noticing.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶115]

It is as easy to deceive ourselves without our perceiving it, as it is difficult to deceive others without their perceiving it.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶115]

We are so used to dissemble with other People, that in time we come to Deceive and Dissemble with our selves.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶120]

We were so used to disguise ourselves to others, that at last we become disguised even to ourselves.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶102; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶116]

We are so used to disguise ourselves to others, that at last we become disguised to ourselves.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶91]

We are so much accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that at length we disguise ourselves to ourselves
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶122]

We spend so much time deceiving others that we end by deceiving ourselves.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶119]

We are so accustomed to adopting a mask before others that we end by being unable to recognize ourselves.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶119]

We get so much in the habit of wearing a disguise before others that we finally appear disguised before ourselves.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶119]

We are so used to disguising ourselves from others that we end by disguising ourselves from ourselves.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶119]

So accustomed do we become to disguising ourselves from others that, at length, we disguise ourselves from ourselves.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶119]

We sometimes shed tears which at first deceive only others, but in the end deceive ourselves also. [tr. Stevens (1939), ¶373]

La foiblesse fait commettre plus de trahisons que le véritable dessein de trahir.

[Weakness makes one commit more betrayals than the real intention to betray.]

Weakness occasions the committing of more treacherous actions, than the real design of being treacherous.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶178]

Treachery is oftner the Effect of Weakness, than of a fixed Design.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶121]

Treachery is oftner the Effect of Weakness than of a form'd Design.
[tr. Stanhope (1706), ¶121]

Men are oftener treacherous through weakness than design.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶425; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶117]

Men are treacherous oftener through weakness than design.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶402]

Men are more often guilty of treachery from weakness of character than from any settled design to betray.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶123]

We often act treacherously more from weakness than from a fixed motive.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶120]

Deception is more often the fruit of weakness than of an intent to deceive.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶120]

Treachery is the result of weakness more often than of a deliberate intention to betray.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶120]

Treason is more often the result of weakness than of a deliberate plan to betray.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶120]

We are oftener treacherous through weakness than through calculation.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶120]

We betray more often from weakness than out of a resolute intention to betray.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶120]

Si on étoit toujours assez habile, on ne ferait jamais de finesses ni de trahisons.
 
[If one were sufficiently able, one would never do tricks or treasons]

Cunning and treachery proceed from want of capacity.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶80; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶122]

Cunning and treachery proceed often from want of capacity.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶68]

Treacheries and acts of artifice only originate in the want of ability.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶129]

Cunning and treachery are the offspring of incapacity.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶126]

Trickery and treachery are a mark of stupidity.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶126]

Guile and treachery are merely the result of want of talent.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶126]

Cunning and treachery come solely from a lack of skill.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶126]

Tricks and treachery are merely proof of lack of skill.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶126]

Intrigues and treasons simply come from lack of adroitness.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶126]

Cunning and treachery are given rise to by mere incompetence.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

The Qualities a man really hath, make him not so ridiculous as those which out of pure affectation he pretends to have.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶15]

Men become Ridiculous, not so much for the Qualities they have, as those they would be thought to have, when they really have them not.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶135]

We are never made so ridiculous by the qualities we have, as by those we affect to have.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶22; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶130]

Never are we made so ridiculous; by the qualities we have, as by those we affect to have.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶19]

We are never so ridiculous from the qualities we have, as from those we affect to have.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶137]

We are never so ridiculous from the habits we have as from those that we affect to have.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶134]

Our true qualities never make us as ridiculous as those we affect.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶134]

Our real qualities never excite such ridicule as those we pretend to possess.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶134]

We are never so ridiculous for the qualities we have as for those we pretend to.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶134]

We are never so ridiculous through qualities we have as through those we pretend to have.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶134]

One is never as ridiculous with the qualities one has, as with those one affects to have. [tr. Siniscalchi (c. 1994)]

We are never so ridiculous in our personal qualities, as in those which we pretend to have.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶134]

There may be several causes assigned why we meet with so few persons, whom we allow to be rational and divertive in conversation. Of which this is one, that there is hardly any body, whose thoughts are not rather taken up with what he hath a mind to say himself, than in precisely answering what had been said to him; and that persons of greatest abilities and complaisance think it.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶186]

One reason, why we find so very few Men of Sense and agreeable Conversation, is, That almost every bodies mind is more intent upon what he himself hath a mind to say, than upon making pertinent Replies to what the rest of the Company say to him.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶140]

One reason why we meet with so few people who are reasonable and agreeable in conversation is, that there is scarce any body who does not think more of what he has to say, than of answering what is said to him.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶64; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶134]

We meet with few men who are agreeable in conversation: the reason is, we think more of what we have to advance, than of what they have to answer.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶53]

One thing which makes us find so few people who appear reasonable and agreeable in conversation is, that there is scarcely any one who does not think more of what he is about to say than of answering precisely what is said to him.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶142]

One of the reasons that we find so few persons rational and agreeable in conversation is there is hardly a person who does not think more of what he wants to say than of his answer to what is said.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶139]

One reason why so few people converse agreeably or logically is that a man pays more attention to his own utterances than to giving an exact answer to questions put to him.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶139]

One of the reasons why so few people show themselves intelligent and agreeable in conversation is that almost every one is intent on what he wants to say himself rather than on replying with exactness to what is said to him.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶139]

One reason why so few people are intelligent and attractive in conversation is that almost everybody thinks of what he wants to say instead of how to answer properly what has been said to him.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶139]

One of the reasons so few people are to be found who seem sensible and pleasant in conversation is that almost everybody is thinking about what he wants to say himself rather than about answering clearly what is being said to him.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶139]

One reason why we find so few people who appear reasonable and agreeable in conversation, is that there is almost no one who does not think more about what he wishes to say than about pertinently replying to what is said to him.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶139]

[Comme c’est le caractère des grands esprits de faire entendre avec peu de paroles beaucoup de choses, les petits esprits, en revanche, ont le don de beaucoup parler, et de ne dire rien.]

As great Wits have a peculiar Faculty of saying a great deal in a little; so half witted Fellows have a Talent of talking much, and yet saying nothing.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶143]

As it is the characteristic of great wits to say much in few words, so small wits seem to have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶414; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶137]

It is the characteristic of great wits to say much in a few words; small wits seem to have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶419]

As it is the characteristic of great wits; to convey a great deal in a few words, so, on the contrary, small wits have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶145]

As it is the mark of great minds to say many things in a few words, so it is that of little minds to use many words to say nothing.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶142]

As it is a trait of powerful intellects to express much in a few words; inversely, small minds talk much and say little.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶142]

It is a mark of great minds to say much in a few words. On the other hand, small minds possess the gift of talking much and saying nothing.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶142]

As it is the mark of great minds to convey much in few words, so small minds are skilled at talking at length and saying little.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶142]

As the stamp of great minds is to suggest much in a few words, so, contrariwise, little minds have the gift of talking a great deal and saying nothing.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶142]

As it is the character of great minds to make many things understood in few words; so small minds, on the contrary, have the gift of speaking much, and saying nothing.
[tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]

Just as great spirits make much understood with few words, small ones have the gift of speaking very much without saying anything.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]

There are some who commend when they make account to reproach; and others whose praises are detractions.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶166]

Some Censures are a Commendation, and some Commendations are no better than Scandal.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶149]

There are reproaches that praise, and praises that reproach.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶369; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶142]

There are reproaches which give praise, and there are praises which reproach.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶323]

There are reproaches which praise, and praises which convey satire.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶151]

Censure often praises, and praise as frequently censures.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶148]

Some reproaches are compliments, and some compliments slanders.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶148]

Hard words can be praise, and praises can be slander.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶148]

There are reproaches that compliment, and compliments that disparage.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶148]

Some strictures can be compliments, and some compliments can be slanderous.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶148]

There are reproaches which praise, and praises which slander.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶148]

That Modesty which stands so much upon the refusal of [praises], is indeed but a desire of having such as are more delicate.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶151]

He that refuses Praises the first time it is offered, does it, because he would hear it a second.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶150]

A refusal of praise is a desire to be praised twice.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶368; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶143]

Resistance to praise is a desire to be praised twice.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶325]

A refusal of praise; is a desire to be praised twice.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶152]

The refusal of praise is only the wish to be praised twice.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶149]

We decline commendation that we may be twice commended.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶149]

To disclaim admiration is to desire it in double measure.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶149]

The refusal to accept praise is the desire to be praised twice over.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶149]

To refuse to accept praise is to want to be praised twice over.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶149]

The refusal of praise is a desire to be praised twice over.
[tr. Siniscalchi (c. 1994)]

The refusal of praise is a desire to be praised twice.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶149]

If we did not Flatter our selves, all the Flatteries of other People could never hurt us.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶153]

Did we not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others could never hurt us.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶144; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶146]

Were we not to flatter ourselves, the flattery of others would never hurt us.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶127]

If we did not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others would be very harmless.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶155]

If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others would not hurt us.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶152]

Did we not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others could not harm us.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶152]

Flattery would do us no harm if we did not flatter ourselves.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶152]

If we never flattered ourselves, we would be immune to the flattery of others
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶152]

If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others could do us no harm.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶152]

If we did not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others could never harm us.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶152]

Great mens Honour ought always to be measured by the Methods they made use of for the attaining it.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶158]

The glory of great men ought always to be rated according to the means used to acquire it.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶191; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶151]

The glory of great men is ever to be rated according to the means used to acquire it.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶159]

The glory of men should always be proportioned to the means they have employed to acquire it.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶161]

The fame of great men ought always to be estimated by the means used to acquire it.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶157]

Glory is measured by the means used to attain it.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶157]

The fame of great men should always be measured by the means they employed to acquire it.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶157]

A great man's fame must always be measured against the means used to acquire it.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶157]

The fame of great men should always be judged by the methods they employed to achieve it.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶157]

The glory of great men must always be measured according to the means by which they have acquired it.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶157]

Flattery is like false Money, and if it were not for our own Vanity could never pass in Payment.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), Book 2, ¶104; Stanhope (1706 ed.), ¶517]

Flattery is a sort of bad money, to which our vanity gives currency.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶145; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶152]

Flattery may be considered as a sort of bad money, to which our vanity gives currency.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶128]

Flattery is a false coin, which only derives its currency from our vanity.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶270]

Flattery is base coin to which only our vanity gives currency.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶158]

Flattery is a counterfeit coinage, current only because our vanity accepts it.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶266]

Flattery is a counterfeit coinage to which our vanity alone gives currency.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶158; tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶158]

Flattery is a spurious coinage only made current by our vanity.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶158]

Flattery is a kind of counterfeit currency, which is put in circulation only by our vanity.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶158]

While laziness and timidity alone have the merit of keeping us in our duty, our virtue often has all the honour.
 
[Pendant que la paresse et la timidité ont seules le mérite de nous tenir dans notre devoir, notre vertu en a souvent tout l’honneur.]

Shame, laziness and timidity alone retain the merit of holding us back from our duty, while our virtue has all the honor.
 
[La honte, la paresse et la timidité conservent toutes seules le mérite de nous retenir dans notre devoir, pendant que notre vertu en a tout l’honneur.]

It must be admitted that virtue, by which we boast of doing everything good that we do, would not always have the strength to hold us back from the rules of our duty, if laziness, timidity, or shame did not make us see the disadvantages of departing from them.
 
[Il faut avouer que la vertu, par qui nous nous vantons de faire tout ce que nous faisons de bien, n’aurait pas toujours la force de nous retenir dans les règles de notre devoir, si la paresse, la timidité, ou la honte ne nous faisoient voir les inconvénients qu’il y a d’en sortir.]

We are many times kept within the limits of our duty by Shame, Sloth, and Timorousness, while in the mean time our Virtue hath all the credit of it.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶5]

Many People are kept within their Duty, because they have not the Courage, or will not be at the pains of being wicked; and in such cases oftentimes our Vertue runs away with all the Praise.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶170]

Idleness, timidity, and shame, often keep us within the bounds of duty; whilst virtue seems to run away with the honour.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶233; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶163]

Idleness, timidity, or shame, often keeps us within the bounds of duty; whilst virtue seems to run away with the honour of it.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶202]

Indolence and timidity often keep us to our duty, while our virtue carries off all the credit of doing so.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶172]

Idleness and fear keeps us in the path of duty, but our virtue often gets the praise.
[tr. Bund / Friswell (1871), ¶169]

Although it is frequently laziness and timidity that keep us within the path of duty, it is virtue that reaps the credit.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶169]

Though indolence and timidity keep us to the path of duty, virtue often gets all the credit.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶169]

When laziness or cowardice keeps us to the path of duty, the credit is often given entirely to our honour.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶169]

When laziness and timidity yokes us to our duties, we often give virtue the credit for it.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶169]

While it is idleness and timidity that retain us in our duty, our virtue takes all the credit.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶169]

All the Virtues men so much pretend to, are swallow'd up in Interest, as Rivers lose their names when they fall into the Sea.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶3]

Vertues are lost in Interest, as Rivers are swallowed up in the Sea.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶172]

The virtues are lost in interest, as rivers are in the sea.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶448; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶165]

The virtues are lost in interest, as rivers are lost in the sea.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶174]

As rivers are lost in the sea so are virtues in self.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶171]

Virtues lose themselves in selfish motives like rivers in the sea.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶171]

Our virtues lose themselves in selfishness as rivers are lost in the sea.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶171]

Our virtues are drowned in self-interest, as the rivers flow into the sea.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶171]

Virtues are swallowed up by self-interest as rivers are lost in the sea.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶171]

The virtues lose themselves in self-interest like rivers in the sea.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶171]

[Il vaut mieux employer notre son esprit à supporter les infortunes qui arrivent qu’à pénétrer celles qui peuvent arriver.]

A mans Wits are Employed to better purpose in bearing up under the misfortunes that lie upon him at present, than in foreseeing those that may come upon him hereafter.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶175]

It is a better employment of the understanding to bear the misfortunes that actually befal us, than to penetrate into those that may.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶463; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶167]

The understanding is better employed in bearing actual misfortune, than in penetrating into that which possibly may befal us.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶393]

It is better to employ; our minds in supporting the misfortunes which actually happen, than in anticipating those which may happen to us.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶177]

It is far better to accustom our mind to bear the ills we have than to speculate on those which may befall us.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶174]

We make better use of our abilities by endeavoring to bear our misfortunes, than in seeking to forestall possible catastrophes.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶174]

It is better to devote our minds to endurance of present misfortunes than to anticipation of those which the future may bring.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶174]

Our wits are better employed in helping us endure present misfortunes than in anticipating those that may yet be to come.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶174]

It is better for our minds to help us bear existing misfortunes than prevent possible future ones.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶174]

It is better to employ our mind in bearing misfortunes which actually happen to us, than in predicting those which could occur in future.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶174]

Notre repentir n’est pas une douleur du mal que nous avons fait ; c’est une crainte de celui qui nous en peut arriver.

Notre repentir ne vient point du regret de nos actions, mais du dommage qu’elles nous causent.

Our Repentance proceeds not from the remorse coneiv'd at our Actions, but from the prejudice we are apt to receive thereby.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶35]

Our Repentances are generally not so much a Concern and Remorse for the Ills we have done, as a Dread of those we were in danger of suffering.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶181]

Repentance is not so much remorse for what we have done, as the fear of consequences.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶384; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶172]

Our repentance is not so much sorrow for the ill we have done as fear of the ill that may happen to us.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶180]

Repentance is less a sorrow at having sinned than a fear of the possible consequences.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶184]

Repentance is not so much regret for the evil we have done as fear of that which may befall us.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶180]

Our repentance is less a regret for the evil we have done than a precaution against the evil that may be done to us.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶180]

Our repentance is less a regret for ills we have caused than a fear of ills we may encounter.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶180]

Repentance is not so much regret for the evil we have done as fear of the evil that may befall us as a result.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶180]

Our repentance is not so much regret for the evil we have done, as fear of the evil which may yet happen to us in future.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶180]

When our Vices forsake us, we please our selves with an Opinion, that we parted first, and left them.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶193]

When our vices have left us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶440]

When our Vices have left us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them.
[ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶184]

When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶367]

When our vices quit us we flatter ourselves with the belief that it is we who quit them.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶201]

When our vices leave us we flatter ourselves with the idea we have left them.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶192]

We flatter ourselves that we quit our vices; in reality our vices quit us.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶197]

When our vices abandon us, we flatter ourselves that it is we who abandon them.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶192]

When our vices depart from us, we flatter ourselves that it is we who have gotten rid of them.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶192]

When the vices give us up we flatter ourselves that we are giving up them.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶192]

When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves with the belief that it is we who have left them.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶192]

... parce qu’on songe plus à le paroître aux autres qu’à être effectivement ce qu’il faut être.   [... because we think more about appearing so to others than actually being what we must be.]

The desire to be thought a wise Man, oftentimes hinders ones coming to be really such.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶200]

The desire of appearing to be persons of ability often prevents our being so.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶1, ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶190]

Never are we made so ridiculous by the qualities we have, as by those we affect to have. An affectation of wisdom often prevents our becoming wise.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶19]

The desire of appearing clever often prevents our becoming so.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶208]

The desire to appear clever often prevents our being so.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶199; tr. Stevens (1939), ¶199]

The desire to appear clever often prevents a man from being so.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶199]

The desire to seem clever often prevents our being so.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶199]

The desire to appear intelligent, often prevents us from actually becoming so.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶199]

Vertue would not make such Advances, if there were not a little Vanity to bear it Company.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶201]

Virtue would not go so far, if vanity did not bear her company.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶452; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶191]

Worldly virtue would not go far, were vanity not to bear her company.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶386]

Virtue would not travel so far if vanity did not keep her company.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶209]

Virtue would not go far did not vanity escort her.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶200]

Virtue would be shorter lived, were vanity not its companion.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶205]

Virtue would not go so far if vanity did not bear her company.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶200]

Virtue would not go so far did vanity not keep her company.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶200]

Virtue would not go nearly so far if vanity did not keep her company.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶200]

Virtue would not go so far without vanity to bear it company.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶200]

He that fansies such a sufficiency in himself, that he can live without all the World, is mightily mistaken; but he that imagines himself so necessary, that other people cannot live without him, is a great deal more mistaken.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶202]

He who imagines he can do without the world, deceives himself much; but he who fancies the world cannot do without him, is still more mistaken.
[ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶192]

He who imagines he can do without the world, deceives himself much: but he who fancies the world cannot do without him, is under a far greater deception.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶81]

He who thinks he can find in himself the means of doing without others is much mistaken; but he who thinks that others cannot do without him is still more mistaken.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶210]

He who thinks he has the power to content the world greatly deceives himself, but he who thinks that the world cannot be content with him deceives himself yet more.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶201]

The man who thinks he can do without the world errs; but the man who thinks the world can do without him is in still greater error.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶206]

It is a great mistake for a man to suppose that he can dispense with the world; but it is a much greater one to suppose that the world cannot dispense with him.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶201]

A man who believes that his inner resources are such that he can dispense with his fellow-men is committing a serious mistake: it is not, however, so serious as that of the man who believes himself indispensable to others.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶201]

The man who thinks he can do without the world is indeed mistaken: but the man who thinks the world cannot do without him is mistaken even worse.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶201]

The man who thinks he can find enough in himself to be able to dispense with everybody else makes a great mistake, but the man who thinks he is indispensable to others makes an even greater.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶201]

He who believes that he can make do without any one else in the world, is very mistaken; but he who believes that nobody in the world could make do without him, deceives himself still more greatly.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶201]

[Il y a des gens qui ressemblent aux vaudevilles, que tout le monde chante un certain temps, quelques fades et dégoûtants qu’ils soient.]

There are a sort of people may be compar'd to those trivial Songs, which all are in an humour to sing for a certain time, how flat and distasteful soever they may be.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶64]

Some Men are like Ballads, that every body Sings at one time or other, though they be never so dull and insipid.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶212]

There are people who, like new songs, are in vogue only for a time.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶454; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶202]

There are those, who, like new songs, are favourites only for a time.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶491]

Some people resemble ballads, which are only sung for a certain time.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶220]

There are people who are like farces, which are praised but for a time (however foolish and distasteful they may be).
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶211]

Some people are like rag-time -- their popularity is short-lived.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶216]

Some people are like popular songs, which are sung only for a season.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶211]

Some people are like a popular song, taken up only for a time.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶211]

Some people are like popular songs that you only sing for a short time.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶211]

There are people who resemble certain kinds of popular music, which are sung only for a certain time, however insipid and disgusting they may be, and then forgotten.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶211]

[La pure valeur, s’il y en avoit, seroit de faire sans témoins ce qu’on est capable de faire devant le monde.]

Pure Valour, if there were any such thing, would consist in the doing of that without witnesses, which it were able to do, if all the world were to be spectators thereof.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶117]

True Valour would do all that, when alone, that it could do, if all the World were by.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶217]

Perfect valour consists in doing without witnesses all we should be capable of doing before the whole world.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶431; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶207; ed. Carvill (1835), ¶367]

Perfect valor is to do unwitnessed what we should be capable of doing before all the world.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶225]

Perfect valour is to do without witnesses what one would do before all the world.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶216]

Perfect valor accomplishes without witnesses what anyone could do before the eyes of the world.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶221]

Perfect courage consists in doing unobserved what we could do in the eyes of the world.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶216]

Perfect courage means doing unwitnessed what we would be capable of with the world looking on.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶216]

Perfect valor consists in doing without witnesses what one would be capable of doing before the world at large.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶216]

Perfect bravery is being able to do without witnesses what one would be able to do in front of everyone.
[tr. Siniscalchi (c. 1994)]

Perfect courage is to do without witnesses what one would do before all the world.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶216]

Perfect courage is to do without witnesses what one would be capable of doing with the world looking on.
[Source]

Hypocrisie is a Sort of Homage which Vice pays to Vertue.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶ 219]

Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays to virtue.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶ 231; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶ 209; ed. Carville (1835), ¶ 449; tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶ 218]

Hypocrisy is the homage that vice renders to virtue.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶ 227]

Hypocrisy is a tribute vice pays to virtue.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶ 223; tr Tancock (1959), ¶ 218]

Hypocrisy is a sort of homage which vice pays to virtue.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶ 218]

Hypocrisy is the homage vice offers to virtue.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶ 218]

Hypocrisy is a form of homage that vice pays to virtue.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶ 218]

Prosperous Persons seldom mend much; they always think themselves in the right, so long as Fortune approves their ill Conduct.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶102]

Fortunate people never correct themselves. They always fancy they are in the right as long as fortune supports their ill conduct.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶376]

Lucky people are bad hands at correcting their faults; they always believe that they are right when fortune backs up their vice or folly.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶227]

Happy people rarely correct their faults; they consider themselves vindicated, since fortune endorses their evil ways.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶373]

Lucky people scarcely ever correct their faults; they always believe that they have acted rightly if fortune has smiled on their evil ways.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶227]

Lucky men seldom mend their ways; they always feel in the right so long as luck favors their ill behavior.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶227]

Prosperous people hardly ever rectify their faults: for while Fortune lends her support to their bad conduct, they always believe themselves to be in the right.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶227]

There is not any thing so contagious as Example, and whatever actions are done remarkable either for their Goodness or Mischief, they are Patterns to others to do the like.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶48]

Nothing is of so pestilent spreading a Nature, as Example; and no Man does any exceeding good, or very wicked thing; but it produces others of the same kind.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶231]

Nothing is so contagious as example: never is any considerable good or ill done that does not produce its like.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶122; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶219]

Nothing is so contagious as example. Never was there any considerable good or ill action, that hath not produced its like.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶469]

Nothing is so contagious as example; and we never do any great good or great evil which does not produce its like.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶241]

Nothing is so infectious as example, and we never do great good or evil without producing the like.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶230]

Nothing is as contagoius as example. Each of our very good or very bad acts reproduces itself.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶237]

Nothing is so contagious as example, and all our very good or bad deeds beget their like.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶230]

Nothing is as contagious as example, and we never perform an outstandingly good or evil action without its producing others of its sort.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶230]

Nothing is so contagious as example, and we never commit good or evil acts without their propagating themselves.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶230]

Nothing is so contagious as example, and we never do either great good nor great evil without producing the like.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶230]

It is more often from pride than from want of intelligence that people oppose with so much obstinacy; the most received opinions. They find the best places taken up in the good party, and do not like to put up with inferior ones.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶380]

It is more often from pride than from ignorance that we are so obstinately opposed to current opinions; we find the first places taken, and we do not want to be the last.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶234]

It is more often our pride than our limited understanding which makes us fly so violently in the face of public opinion. We find the best seats on the correct side already occupied, and we do not care to sit in the rear.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶377]

Pride, rather than a lack of perspicacity, is what usually drives us to oppose with such obstinacy opinions that are generally accepted as correct: though theirs may be the better party, the front benches are already filled, and we certainly do not want to take a back seat.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶234]

It is oftener through pride than through lack of understanding that we so militantly object to prevailing opinions; we find the front seats already in other hands, and we do not want rear ones.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶234]

Those who obstinately oppose the most widely-held opinions more often do so because of pride than lack of intelligence. They find the best places in the right set already taken, and they do not want back seats.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶234]

It is more often from pride than from ignorance that we so stubbornly oppose ourselves to the most current opinions: we find the first seats already taken on the better side, and do not wish to sit down there last.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶234]

Nul ne mérite d’être loué de bonté, s’il n’a la force et la hardiesse d’être méchant: toute autre bonté n’est le plus souvent qu’une paresse ou une impuissance de la mauvaise volonté.
 
[... if he lacks the strength and boldness to be wicked ... impotence of ill will.]

... toute autre bonté n’est en effet qu’une privation du vice, ou plutôt la timidité du vice, et son endormissement.
 
[... all other goodness is in fact only a deprivation of vice, or rather the timidity of vice, and its slumber.]

No Man deserves to be commended for his Vertue, who hath it not in his Power to be Wicked; all other Goodness is Generally no better than Sloth, or an Impotence in the Will.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶238]

None deserve the name of good, who have not spirit enough, at least, to be bad: goodness being for the most part but indolence or impotence.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶197; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶223]

None deserve the character of being good, who have not spirit enough to be bad.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶174]

No man deservers to be praised for his goodness unless he has strength of character to be wicked. All other goodness is generally nothing but indolence or impotence of will.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶248]

No one should be praised for his goodness if he has not strength enough to be wicked. All other goodness is but too often an idleness or powerlessness of will.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶237]

No one should be praised for benevolence if he is too weak to be wicked; most benevolence is but laziness or lack of willpower.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶244]

Goodness deserves credit only in those who are strong enough to do evil. In other cases it is usually laziness or want of character.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶237]

No man should be praised for his goodness if he lacks the strength to be bad: in such cases goodness is usually only the effect of indolence or impotence of will.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶237]

No one deserves praise for being good who lacks the power to do evil. Goodness, for the most part, is merely laziness or absence of will.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶237]

Nobody deserves to be praised for his goodness if he has not the power to be evil. All other goodness is most often but indolence or weakness of will.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶237]

It is a Great Act of Wisdom to be able to Conceal one's being Wise.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶246]

It requires no small degree of ability to know when to conceal it.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), "Ability," ¶4]

It is a great ability to be able to conceal one's ability.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶257]

There is great ability in knowing how to conceal one's ability.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶245]

It is the height of art to conceal art.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶245]

A very clever man will know how to hide his cleverness.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶245]

It is exceedingly clever to know how to hide your cleverness.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶245]

To conceal ingenuity is ingenuity indeed.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶245]

It is great cleverness to know how to hide our cleverness.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶245]

True Eloquence consists in saying whatever is requisite, and in not saying any more then what is requisite.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶45]

True Eloquence consists in Saying all that is Fit to be Said; and Leaving Out all that is not Fit to be Said.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶251]

True eloquence consists in saying all that is proper, and nothing more.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶110]; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶236]

True eloquence consists in saying what is proper, but nothing more.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶97]

True eloquence consists in saying all that is necessary, and nothing but what is necessary.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶262]

True eloquence consists in saying all that should be, not all that could be said.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶250]

True eloquence lies in saying everything one should say, but nothing that one should not.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶258]

True eloquence consists in saying the right thing, and nothing more.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶250]

True eloquence means saying all that is necessary and only what is necessary.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶250]

True eloquence consists in saying all that is required and only what is required.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶250]

True eloquence consists in saying, on the one hand all that we ought to say, on the other omitting what we ought not.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶250]

Interest is the Thing that puts Men upon Exercising their Vertues and Vices of All Kinds.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶254]

Interest puts in motion all the virtues and vices.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶258; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶238]

The virtues and vices are all set in motion by interest.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶225]

Interest brings into play every sort of virtue and of vice.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶265]

Interest sets at work all sorts of virtues and vices.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶253]

Selfishness brings into play all manner of vices and virtues.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶261]

Selfishness makes use of virtues and vices of every kind.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶253]

Self-interest turns to account all kinds of virtues and vices.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶253]

Self-interest sets in motion virtues and vices of all kinds.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶253]

Self-interest puts in motion every kind of virtue and of vice.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶253]

It is from a Weakness and Littleness of Soul, that Men are Stiff and Positive in their Opinions; and we are very loth to Believe, what we are not able to Comprehend, and make out to Our Selves.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶266]

Narrowness of mind is often the cause of obstinacy: we do not easily believe beyond what we see.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶319; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶248]

Narrowness of mind is often the cause of obstinacy; we believe no farther than we can see.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶458]

Narrowness of mind is the cause of obstinacy -- we do not easily believe what is beyond our sight.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶276]

A narrow mind begets obstinacy, and we do not easily believe what we cannot see.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶265]

Obstinacy of opinion is due to want of intelligence; we find it difficult to believe what is beyond our mental horizon.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶265]

A small mind is a stubborn mind; it is hard to believe what lies beyond our field of vision.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶265]

A small mind becomes an obstinate mind: we find it hard to believe what lies beyond our understanding.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶265]

Obstinacy comes from limited intelligence, and we do not readily believe what is beyond our field of vision.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶265]

Narrowness of mind begets obstinacy; and we do not easily believe what we cannot see ourselves.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶]

On s’est trompé quand on a cru, après tant de grands exemples, que l’ambition et l’amour triomphent toujours des autres passions; c’est la paresse, toute languissante qu’elle est, qui en est le plus souvent la maîtresse: elle usurpe insensiblement sur tous les desseins et sur toutes les actions de la vie; enfin elle émousse et éteint toutes les passions et toutes les vertus.

'Tis a great mistake, to think that Love and Ambition triumph over all the other Passions: on the contrary, Sloth, notwithstanding all its languishment, hath many times a soveraignty over them; this insensibly usurps an Empire over all the designs, and over all the actions of life; this destroys and compleats all the Passions, and all the Virtues employ'd in the conduct of it.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶96]

It is a Mighty Error, to suppose, that none but Violent and Strong Passions, such as Love, and Ambition, are able to Vanquish the rest. Even Idleness, as Feeble and Languishing as it is, sometimes reigns over Them; This Usurps the Throne, and sits Paramount over all the Designs and Actions of our Lives; and Insensibly wasts and destroys all our Passions, and all our Vertues.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶247]

It is a mistake to imagine, that the violent passions only, such as ambition and love, can triump over the rest. Idleness, languid as it is, often masters them all; she indeed influences all our designs and actions, and insensibly consumes and destroys both passions and virtues.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶232]

It is a mistake to imagine that the violent passions only, such as ambition and love, can triumph over the rest. Idleness, languid as it is, often governs them all; she influences all our designs and our actions; she insensibly consumes and destroys both the passions and the virtues.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶201]

It is deceiving ourselves to fancy that it is only the violent passions, such as ambition; and love, which can triumph over the others. Indolence, all languid as it is, nevertheless is frequently their master; it spreads its dominions over all the designs and all the actions of life, and thus destroys and insensibly consumes the passions and the virtues.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶277]

We deceive ourselves if we believe that there are violent passions like ambition and love that can triumph over others. Idleness, languishing as she is, does not often fail in being mistress; she usurps authority over all the plans and actions of life; imperceptibly consuming and destroying both passions and virtues.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶266]

It is a great mistake to believe that only violent passions, such as love and ambition, can make us masters of others. Laziness with all its indolence is often the most absolute sovereign; it encroaches upon all the plans and acts of our lives, and, little by little, saps and destroys our passions and our virtues.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶274]

It is a mistake to believe that only the violent passions, such as ambition or love, can dominate their fellows. Indolence, sluggish though she be, is often the queen of them all; she encroaches upon all the intentions and actions of our life; unperceived she crushes and engorges passion and virtue alike.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶266]

We make a mistake if we believe that only the violent passions like ambition and love can subdue the others. Laziness, for all her languor, is nevertheless often mistress: she permeates every aim and action in life and imperceptibly eats away and destroys passions and virtues alike.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶266]

We deceive ourselves if we believe that it is the violent passions alone, like ambition and love, that can triumph over the others. Idleness, as languishing as it is, rarely fails to be the master: it usurps all the plans and actions of our lives, destroying and insensibly consuming both passions and virtues.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶266]

La promptitude avec laquelle nous croyons le mal, sans l’avoir assez examiné, est un effet de la paresse et de l’orgueil.
 
[The readiness with which we believe evil, without having examined it sufficiently, is an effect of laziness and pride.]

A readiness to believe Ill, before we have duly Examined it, is the Effect of Laziness and Pride. Men are pleased to find Others to Blame and loth to give Themselves the Trouble of Enquiring, how far, and whether they are so, or not.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶268]

A readiness to believe ill without examination is the effect of pride and laziness. We are willing to find people guilty, and unwilling to be at the trouble of examining into the accusation.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶245; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶250]

A willingness to believe ill, without examination, is the effect of pride and idleness. We are ready to suppose guilt, but unwilling to be at the trouble of examining into the accusation.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶214]

Readiness; to believe evil without sufficient examination is the result of pride and indolence. We wish to find people guilty, and we do not wish to give ourselves the trouble of examining into the crimes.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶278]

A quickness in believing evil without having sufficiently examined it, is the effect of pride and laziness. We wish to find the guilty, and we do not wish to trouble ourselves in examining the crime.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶267]

A ready belief of evil without examining the facts is a form of pride, or of indolence. We are anxious to ferret out criminals without taking the pains of examining their crimes.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶275]

Readiness to believe evil without adequate inquiry is the result of pride and indolence. We like detecting criminals, but we dislike the labor of investigating crimes.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶267]

The promptitude with which we will believe evil of others, without an adequate examination of the facts, is an effect of pride working with laziness. We wish to find the guilty men, and cannot be be bothered to study the crime.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶267]

Readiness to believe the worst without adequate examination comes from pride and laziness; we want to find culprits but cannot be bothered to investigate the crimes.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶267]

A readiness to believe evil without sufficient examination, it is an effect both of pride and of idleness. On the one hand, we desire to find other people guilty; and on the other, we do not wish to take the pains necessary to examine their crimes.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶267]

There are but few Men Wise enough to know all the Mischief Wisdom does.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶270]

There are but few Men wise enough to know all the Mischief they do.
[tr. Stanhope (1706), Powell ed., ¶269]

Few men are able to know all the ill they do.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶5]

Few men are able to know all the ill they do.
[ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶252]

Few of us have abilities to know all the ill we occasion.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶3]

Scarcely any man is clever enough to know all the evil he does.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶280]

No man is clever enough to know all the evil he does.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶269]

No one is sufficiently keen to realize to the full the harm he does.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶277]

Scarcely any man is clever enough to realize all the harm he does.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶269]

There is hardly a man clever enough to recognize the full extent of the evil that he does.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶269]

Almost no one is perceptive enough to realize all the harm he does.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶269]

There is scarcely a man alive clever enough to know all the evil he does.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶269]

We attempt to Vindicate, and value our selves upon those Faults we have no design to mend.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶2.30; (1706 ed.), ¶442]

We endeavour to get reputation by those faults we determine not to amend.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶138; ed. Carvill (1835), ¶122]

We endeavor to make a merit of faults that we are unwilling to correct.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶467]

We try to make a virtue of vices we are loth to correct.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶442]

We boast the faults we are unwilling to correct.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶464]

We endeavour to take pride in faults that we would rather not correct.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶442]

We try to glory in those failings which we are unwilling to correct.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957), ¶442]

We try to make virtues out of the faults we have no wish to correct.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶442]

We try to make a merit of those of our faults which we do not wish to correct.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶442]

We blame ourselves only to extort praise.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶363]

When we seem to blame ourselves; we mean only to extort praise.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶318]

Man only blames himself in order that he may be praised.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), 1693 ed.]

We only blame ourselves in order to be praised.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶554]

Our Vertues are oftentimes in Reality no better than Vices disguised.
[tr. Stanhope (1694)]

Our virtues are most frequently but vices disguised.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]

Our virtues are mostly but vices in disguise.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]

Our virtues, most often, are only vices disguised.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]