(38.) To endeavour to forget any one is a certain way of thinking of nothing else. Love has this in common with scruples, that it becomes embittered by the reflections and the thoughts that beset us to free ourselves. If we could do it, the only way to extinguish our passion would be never to think of it. (39.) We should like those whom we love to receive all their happiness, or, if this were impossible, all their unhappiness from our hands. (40.) To bewail the loss of a person we love is a happiness compared with the necessity of living with one we hate. (41.) However disinterested we may be with regard to those we love, we must sometimes constrain ourselves for their sake, and have the generosity to accept gifts. A man may freely accept a gift if he feels as great a pleasure in receiving it as his friend felt in giving it him. (42.) To give is to act; we do not suffer any pains by our liberality, nor by yielding to the importunity or necessity of postulants. (43.) If at any time we have been liberal to those we loved, whatever happens afterwards, there is no occasion to think of what we have given. (44.) It has been said in Latin[192] that it costs less to hate than to love; or, in other words, that friendship is more expensive than hatred. It is true that we need not be liberal towards our enemies; but does revenge cost nothing? Or, if it be so pleasing and natural to harm those we hate, is it less so to do good to those we love? Would it not be disagreeable and painful for us not to do so? (45.) There is a pleasure in meeting the glance of a person whom we have lately laid under some obligations. (46.) I do not know whether a benefit conferred upon an ungrateful person, and thus on a person unworthy of it, does not change its name, and whether it deserves any gratitude.[193] (47.) Liberality consists not so much in giving a great deal as in giving seasonably. (48.) If it be true that in showing pity and compassion we think of ourselves, because we fear to be one day or another in the same circumstances as those unfortunate people for whom we feel, why are the latter so sparingly relieved by us in their wretchedness? It is better to expose ourselves to ingratitude than to neglect our duty to the distressed. (49.) Experience proves us that if we are effeminate, and indulgent towards ourselves, and obdurate towards others, we show but one and the same vice. (50.) A moiling, toiling man, who shows no mercy to himself, is only lenient to others by excess of reason.