I would rather take hellebore than spend a conversation with a good, little man.

The machine has had a pernicious effect upon virtue, pity, and love, and young men used to machines which induce inertia, and fear, are near impotent.

Evil, which is our companion all our days, is not to be treated as a foe. It is wrong to cocker vice, but we grow narrow and pithless if we are furtive about it, for this is at best a pretense, and the sage knows good and evil are kindred. The worst of men harm others, and the best injure themselves.

Nothing in our times has become so unattractive as virtue.

We cannot live, suffer or die for somebody else, for suffering is too precious to be shared.

The bad poet is a toady mimicking nature.

We are uneasy with an affectionate man, for we are positive he wants something of us, particularly our love.