The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.

Is it reasonable that even the arts should take advantage of and profit by our natural stupidity and feebleness of mind?

Whatever is enforced by command is more imputed to him who exacts than to him who performs.

Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the place where he chanced to be.

Now, since our condition accommodates things to itself, and transforms them according to itself, we no longer know things in their reality; for nothing comes to us that is not altered and falsified by our Senses. When the compass, the square, and the rule are untrue, all the calculations drawn from them, all the buildings erected by their measure, are of necessity also defective and out of plumb. The uncertainty of our senses renders uncertain everything that they produce.

Unless a man feels he has a good enough memory, he should never venture to lie.

But sure there is need of other remedies than dreaming, a weak contention of art against nature.