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The noble soul reveres itself.

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At the risk of displeasing innocent ears I submit that egoism belongs to the essence of a noble soul.


A refined soul is distressed to know that someone owes it thanks; a crude soul, to know that it owes someone thanks.


Just as bones, tissues, intestines, and blood vessels are enclosed in a skin that makes it possible to bear the sight of a human being, so the agitations and passions of the soul are wrapped up in vanity: it is the soul's skin.


Envy and jealousy are the private parts of the human soul. Perhaps the comparison can be extended.


A soul which knows that it is loved, but does not itself love, betrays its sediment: its dregs come up.


Your soul will be dead even before your body: fear nothing further.