We conceal it from ourselves in vain - we must always love something. In those matters seemingly removed from love, the feeling is secretly to be found, and man cannot possibly live for a moment without it.

This is what I see, and what troubles me. I look on all sides, and everywhere I see nothing but obscurity. Nature offers me nothing that is not a matter of doubt and disquiet.

The mind naturally makes progress, and the will naturally clings to objects; so that for want of right objects, it will attach itself to wrong ones.

All the miseries of mankind come from one thing, not knowing how to remain alone.

We never live, but we hope to live; and as we are always arranging to be happy, it must be that we never are so.

The war existing between the senses and reason.

they do not know that they seek only the chase and not the quarry.