When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindu, his best friends hear no more of him.

I have neither curiosity, interest, pain nor pleasure, in anything, good or evil, they can say of me. I feel only a slight disgust, and a sort of wonder that they presume to write my name.

It were much better that a sentient being should never have existed, than that it should have existed only to endure unmitigated misery.

For this is the most civil sort of lie That can be given to a man's face. I now Say what I think.

A God made by man undoubtedly has need of man to make himself known to man.

That sweet sleep which medicines all pain.

Only nature knows how to justly proportion to the fault the punishment it deserves.