There is a cunning which we in England call "the turning of the cat" in the pan; which is, when that which a man says to another, he says it as if another had said it to him.

The human understanding is unquiet; it cannot stop or rest, and still presses onward, but in vain. Therefore it is that we cannot conceive of any end or limit to the world, but always as of necessity it occurs to us that there is something beyond... But he is no less an unskilled and shallow philosopher who seeks causes of that which is most general, than he who in things subordinate and subaltern omits to do so

It was prettily devised of Aesop, The fly sat on the axle tree of the chariot wheel and said, what dust do I raise!

What is truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an answer.

We only have our nervous system to paint.

The human understanding, from its peculiar nature, easily supposes a greater degree of order and equality in things than it really finds.

In nature things move violently to their place, and calmly in their place.