Everyone gives the title of barbarism to everything that is not in use in his own country.
I turn my gaze inward. I fix it there and keep it busy. I look inside myself. I continually observe myself.
Pleasure itself is painful at the bottom.
Learning must not only lodge with us: we must marry her.
Nature has, herself, I fear, imprinted in man a kind of instinct to inhumanity.
We call comeliness a mischance in the first respect, which belongs principally to the face.