It is but a small merit to observe silence, but it is a grave fault to speak of matters on which we should be silent.

To feel our ills is one thing, but to cure them is another.

Why should I go into details, we have nothing that is not perishable except what our hearts and our intellects endows us with.

Chastity, once lost, cannot be recalled; it goes only once.

A thousand ills require a thousand cures.

Pursuits become habits.

It is convenient that there be gods, and, as it is convenient, let us believe there are.