All is wholesome in the absence of excess.
Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.
It infuriates me to be wrong when I know I'm right.
The defects of human nature afford us opportunities of exercising our philosophy, the best employment of our virtues. If all men were righteous, all hearts true and frank and loyal, what use would our virtues be?
Nearly all men die of their medicines, not of their diseases.
That must be fine, for I don't understand a word.