. . . it seldom happens, I think, that a man has the civility to die when all the world wishes it.

The desire to be singular and to astonish by ways out of the common seems to me to be the source of many virtues.

... we ought to be astonished at nothing; for what do we not meet with in our journey through life?

Death makes us all equal.

There are twelve hours in the day, and above fifty in the night.

We are never satisfied with having done well; and in endeavoring to do better, we do much worse.

I pity those who have no taste for reading.