In God there is an infinitude of things which I cannot comprehend, nor possibly even reach in any way by thought; for it is the nature of the infinite that my nature, which is finite and limited, should not comprehend it.

Few look for truth; many prowl about for a reputation of profundity by arrogantly challenging whichever arguments are the best.

Every man is indeed bound to do what he can to promote the good of others, and a man who is of no use to anyone is strictly worthless.

Illusory joy is often worth more than genuine sorrow.

All is to be doubted.

Let whoever can do so deceive me, he will never bring it about that I am nothing, so long as I continue to think I am something.

The reading of all good books is like a conversation with the finest minds of past centuries.