The study of books is a drowsy and feeble exercise which does not warm you up.
We perceive no charms that are not sharpened, puffed out, and inflated by artifice. Those which glide along naturally and simply easily escape a sight so gross as ours.
It needs courage to be afraid.
Every place swarms with commentaries; of authors there is great scarcity.
It is easier to write an indifferent poem than to understand a good one.
Whoever will imagine a perpetual confession of ignorance, a judgment without leaning or inclination, on any occasion whatever, hasa conception of Pyrrhonism.