It infuriates me to be wrong when I know I'm right.
Nearly all men die of their medicines, not of their diseases.
[Dom Juan] believes neither in Heaven, nor the saints, nor God, nor the Werewolf.
Reason is not what decides love.
One cannot but mistrust a prospect of felicity: one must enjoy it before one can believe in it.
What! Would you make no distinction between hypocrisy and devotion? Would you give them the same names, and respect the mask as you do the face? Would you equate artifice and sincerity? Confound appearance with truth? Regard the phantom as the very person? Value counterfeit as cash?