When I remember Montaigne, and this occurs much more often than I could have guessed even a decade ago, I do not remember any of his wise words, but his warmth.

Addendum (August 15, 2018)

Montaigne comes to my mind surprisingly often. And I mention him in passing to many a friend as though he, too, is an old friend of mine. The warmth is always there in spite of the centuries that separate us. And there are quite a few of them, no doubt. Even I am occasionally taken aback when his century comes up in conversation. Sixteenth, for crying out loud! By way of compensation, as it were, time has been shrinking in my mind. By and by, Sixteenth Century is drawing ever closer. Hey, the age of my youth!