When our hatred is violent, it sinks us even beneath those we hate.
Men are not only prone to forget benefits; they even hate those who have obliged them, and cease to hate those who have injured them. The necessity of revenging an injury, or of recompensing a benefit seems a slavery to which they are unwilling to submit.
When our hatred is too alive puts us below what we hate.
The reason we bitterly hate those who deceive us is because they think they are cleverer than we are.
The heart is forever making the head its fool.
Men sometimes think they hate flattery, but they hate only the manner of flattering.
We sometimes think that we hate flattery, but we only hate the manner in which it is done. [Fr., On croit quelquefoir hair la flatterie; maid on ne hait que a maniere de flatter.]
The more we love, the nearer we are to hate.
The more one loves a mistress, the more one is ready to hate her.
We sometimes imagine we hate flattery, but we only hate the way we are flattered.
If one judges love according to the greatest part of the effects it produces, it would appear to resemble rather hatred than kindness.
We are nearer loving those who hate us than those who love us more than we wish.
We may sooner be brought to love them that hate us, than them that love us more than we would have them do.
The hate of favourites is only a love of favour. The envy of NOT possessing it, consoles and softens its regrets by the contempt it evinces for those who possess it, and we refuse them our homage, not being able to detract from them what attracts that of the rest of the world.
