A Quote by Jean de la Bruyere

All the world says of a coxcomb that he is a coxcomb; but no one dares to say so to his face, and he dies without knowing it. — © Jean de la Bruyere
All the world says of a coxcomb that he is a coxcomb; but no one dares to say so to his face, and he dies without knowing it.
Once a coxcomb, always a coxcomb.
Foppery is never cured; it is the bad stamina of the mind, which, like those of the body, are never rectified; once a coxcomb always a coxcomb.
And angling too, that solitary vice, What Izaak Walton sings or says: The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.
I have seen, and heard, much of Cockney impudence before now; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public's face.
When I ask Plutarch about his absence, he just shakes his head and says, "He couldnt face it." "Haymitch? Not able to face something? Wanted a day off, more likely," I say. "I think his actual words were 'I couldn't face it without a bottle,'" says Plutarch.
A coxcomb is the blockhead's man of merit.
The best thing next to wit is a consciousness that it is not in us; without wit, a man might then know how to behave himself, so as not to appear to be a fool or a coxcomb.
A coxcomb is ugly all over with the effectation of a fine gentleman.
A coxcomb is four-fifths affectation and one-fifth vanity.
A coxcomb is one whom simpletons believe to be a man of merit.
Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most.
swearing is, as I have said, learning to the ignorant, eloquence to the blockhead, vivacity to the stupid, and wit to the coxcomb.
A coxcomb begins by determining that his own profession is the first; and he finishes by deciding that he is the first of profession.
Nature in her whole drama never drew such a part; she has sometimes made a fool, but a coxcomb is always of a man's own making.
It is always easy to shut a book, but not quite so easy to get rid of a lettered coxcomb.
There are two distinct sorts of what we call bashfulness; this, the awkwardness of a booby, which a few steps into the world will convert into the pertness of a coxcomb; that, a consciousness, which the most delicate feelings produce, and the most extensive knowledge cannot always remove.
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