It is an injustice that an old, broken, half-dead father should enjoy alone, in a corner of his hearth, possessions that would suffice for the advancement and maintenance of many children.

For there is no air that men so greedily draw in, that diffuses itself so soon, and that penetrates so deep as that of license.

There are no truths, only moments of claryty passing for answers.

The ceaseless labour of your life is to build the house of death.

The judgment is an utensil proper for all subjects, and will have an oar in everything.

Natural inclinations are assisted and reinforced by education, but they are hardly ever altered or overcome.

Since we cannot match it let us take our revenge by abusing it.