Most of those who make collections of verse or epigram are like men eating cherries or oysters: they choose out the best at first, and end by eating all.

Be my brother or I will kill you.

Only the history of free peoples is worth our attention; the history of men under a despotism is merely a collection of anecdotes.

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

Covetousness is a sort of mental gluttony, not confined to money, but craving honor, and feeding on selfishness.

Eminence without merit earns deference without esteem.

Society would be a charming affair if we were only interested in one another.