All philosophy is a form of confession.

The press, the machine, the railway, the telegraph are premises whose thousand-year conclusion no one has yet dared to draw.

To call a thing good not a day longer than it appears to us good, and above all not a day earlier - that is the only way to keep joy pure.

The mouth may lie, alright, but the face it makes nonetheless tells the truth.

And if ye cannot be saints of knowledge, then, I pray you, be at least its warriors. They are the companions and forerunners of such saintship.

Life is hard to bear: but do not affect to be so delicate! We are all of us fine sumpter asses and assesses.

Many are obstinate with regard to the pathway once they have set upon it, few with regard to the goal.