I hate all men, the ones because they are mean and vicious, and the others for being complaisant with the vicious ones.

And with his arms crossed he looks pityingly down from his spiritual height on everything that anyone says.

I believe that two and two are four and that four and four are eight.

There's nothing people can't contrive to praise or condemn and find justification for doing so, according to their age and their inclinations.

There's a sort of decency among the dead, a remarkable discretion: you never find them making any complaint against the doctor who killed them!

As the purpose of comedy is to correct the vices of men, I see no reason why anyone should be exempt.

I live on good soup, not on fine words.