A writer is rarely so well inspired as when he talks about himself.
The heart errs like the head; its errors are not any the less fatal, and we have more trouble getting free of them because of their sweetness.
Until one has loved an animal a part of one's soul remains unawakened.
Human affairs inspire in noble hearts only two feelings-admiration or pity.
What frightens us most in a madman is his sane conversation.
No government ought to be without censors; and where the press is free, no one ever will. Chance is the pseudonym of God when he did not want to sign.