All man's troubles come from not knowing how to sit still in one room.

What a chimera then is man. What a novelty! What a monster... what a contradiction, what a prodigy

We make an idol of truth itself; for truth apart from charity is not God, but His image and idol, which we must neither love nor worship.

It is not in Montaigne, but in myself, that I find all that I see in him.

Who can doubt that we exist only to love? Disguise it, in fact, as we will, we love without intermission... We live not a moment exempt from its influence.

Thus so wretched is man that he would weary even without any cause for weariness... and so frivolous is he that, though full of a thousand reasons for weariness, the least thing, such as playing billiards or hitting a ball, is sufficient enough to amuse him.

When we are in love we seem to ourselves quite different from what we were before.