I have not the hope of being immortal, because the desire of it has not given me that vanity.

I have only a small flickering light to guide me in the darkness of a thick forest. Up comes a theologian and blows it out.

I discuss with myself questions of politics, love, taste, or philosophy. I let my mind rove wantonly, give it free rein to followany idea, wise or mad that may present itself. My ideas are my harlots.

Mankind have banned the Divinity from their presence; they have relegated him to a sanctuary; the walls of the temple restrict his view; he does not exist outside of it.

The bad gives rise to the good, the good inspires the better, the better produces the excellent, the excellent is followed by the bizarre

How easy it is to tell tales!

Those who fear the facts will forever try to discredit the fact-finders.