War: that mad game the world so loves to play.

Simplicity, without which no human performance can arrive at perfection.

But you think that it is time for me to have done with the world, and so I would if I could get into a better before I was called into the best, and not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.

We have enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.

Ingratitude is amongst them a capital crime, as we read it to have been in some other countries: for they reason thus; that whoever makes ill-returns to his benefactor, must needs be a common enemy to the rest of the mankind, from where he has received no obligations and therefore such man is not fit to live.

My hunger serves me instead of a clock.

I must complain the cards are ill shuffled till I have a good hand.