We are all mortals, and each is for himself.
Heaven forbids, it is true, certain gratifications, but there are ways and means of compounding such matters.
The true touchstone of wit is the impromptu.
I will not leave you until I have seen you hanged.
They [zealots] would have everybody be as blind as themselves: to them, to be clear-sighted is libertinism.
One cannot but mistrust a prospect of felicity: one must enjoy it before one can believe in it.