There si nothing upon the face of the earth so insipid as a medium. Give me love or hate! A friend that will go to jail for me, or an enemy that will run me through the body!

The mind is but too naturally prone to pleasure, but too easily yielded to dissipation

But how cool, how quiet is true courage!

To whom, then, must I dedicate my wonderful, surprising and interesting adventures? to whom dare I reveal my private opinion of my nearest relations? the secret thoughts of my dearest friends? my own hopes, fears, reflections and dislikes? Nobody!

... there's nothing but quarreling with the women; it's my belief they like it better than victuals and drink.

Concealment is the foe of tranquility.

To save the mind from preying inwardly upon itself, it must be encouraged to some outward pursuit.