For having expressed an opinion, however far-fetched, we straightway become its slave, ready to die defending it, and even ready to believe it. And many continue to be martyrs to causes which have ceased to exist, their crowns rusting upon their heads as tin wreaths rust upon forgotten tombs.

Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird.

It is not true that men prefer foolish women. Rather they prefer women who can simulate foolishness whenever necessary, which is the very core of intelligence.

Man is ready to die for an idea, provided that idea is not quite clear to him.

In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled.

Many a necklace becomes a noose.

Avarice is fear sheathed in gold.