Everything is in constant flux on this earth. Nothing keeps the same unchanging shape, and our affections, being attached to things outside us, necessarily change and pass away as they do. Always out ahead of us or lagging behind, they recall a past which is gone or anticipate a future which may never come into being; there is nothing solid there for the heart to attach itself to. Thus our earthly joys are almost without exception the creatures of a moment.

The bigger a state becomes the more liberty diminishes.

He who pretends to look upon death without fear, lies

Take from the philosopher the pleasure of being heard and his desire for knowledge ceases.

Why should we build our happiness on the opinons of others, when we can find it in our own hearts?

Definitions would be good things if we did not use words to make them.

The truth brings no man a fortune.