Men of reason have endured;men of passion have lived.

Satire is the disease of art.

We gild our medicines with sweets; why not clothe truth and morals in peasant garments as well?

Living is a sickness to which sleep provides relief every sixteen hours. It's a palliative. The remedy is death.

Love is like epidemic diseases. The more one fears it the more likely one is to contract it.

Society is divided into two classes, the shearers and the shorn.

There is as much expression in the feet as in the hands.