Nature never said to me: Do not be poor; still less did she say: Be rich; her cry to me was always: Be independent.

Satire is the disease of art.

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

Change of fashion is the tax levied by the industry of the poor on the vanity of the rich.

Most benefactors are like unskillful generals who take the city and leave the citadel intact.

Love, a pleasant folly; ambition, a serious stupidity.

False modesty is the most decent of all lies.