Jean de la Bruyère (French: [ʒɑ̃ də la bʁyjɛʁ]; 16 August 1645 – 11 May 1696) was a French philosopher and moralist, who was noted for his satire.
In all conditions of life a poor man is a near neighbor to an honest one, and a rich man is as little removed from a knave.
Lofty posts make great men greater still, and small men much smaller.
As long as men are liable to die and are desirous to live, a physician will be made fun of, but he will be well paid.
If a handsome woman allows that another woman is beautiful, we may safely conclude she excels her.
When a man puts on a Character he is a stranger to, there's as much difference between what he appears, and what he is really in himself, as there is between a VIzor and a Face.
No man is so perfect, so necessary to his friends as to give them no cause to miss him less.
As riches and honor forsake a man, we discover him to be a fool, but nobody could find it out in his prosperity.
When we are dead we are praised by those who survive us, though we frequently have no other merit than that of being no longer alive.
Amongst such as out of cunning hear all and talk little, be sure to talk less; or if you must talk, say little.
The State not seldom tolerates a comparatively great evil to keep out millions of lesser ills and inconveniences which otherwise would be inevitable and without remedy.
A man who knows the court is master of his gestures, of his eyes and of his face; he is profound, impenetratable; he dissimulates bad offices, smiles at his enemies, controls his irritation, disguises his passions, belies his heartm speaks and acts against his feelings.
Envy and hatred go together. Mutually strengthened by the fact pursue the same object.
It is the glory and merit of some men to write well and of others not to write at all.
A look of intelligence is what regularity of features is to women: it is a styule of beauty to which the most vain may aspire. [Fr. , L'air spirituel est dans les hommes ce que la regularite des traits est dans les femmes: c'est le genre de beaute ou les plus vains puissent aspirer. ]
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude!
One must laugh before one is happy, or one may die without ever laughing at all.
It is difficult for a proud man ever to forgive a person who has found him at fault, and who has good grounds for complaining of him; his pride is not assuaged till he has regained the advantages he lost and put the other person in the wrong.
Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and vanity.
Great things only require to be simply told, for they are spoiled by emphasis; but little things should be clothed in lofty language, as they are only kept up by expression, tone of voice, and style of delivery.
Men regret their life has been ill-spent, but this does not always induce them to make a better use of the time they have yet to live.