He who is not sure of his memory, should not undertake the trade of lying.

There is perhaps no more obvious vanity than to write of it so vainly.

There is a certain consideration, and a general duty of humanity, that binds us not only to the animals, which have life and feeling, but even to the trees and plants. We owe justice to people, and kindness and benevolence to all other creatures who may be susceptible of it. There is some intercourse between them and us, and some mutual obligation.

In plain truth, lying is an accursed vice. We are not men, nor have any other tie upon another, but by our word.

I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that tied them together.

It makes me hate accepting things that are probable when they are held up before me as infallibly true. I prefer these words which tone down and modify the hastiness of our propositions: "Perhaps, In some sort, Some, They say, I think," and the like.

I do myself a greater injury in lying than I do him of whom I tell a lie.