This poem will never reach its destination. On Rousseau's Ode To Posterity

The ancient Romans built their greatest masterpieces of architecture, their amphitheaters, for wild beasts to fight in.

When he who hears does not know what he who speaks means, and when he who speaks does not know what he himself means, that is philosophy.

Despite the enormous quantity of books, how few people read! And if one reads profitably, one would realize how much stupid stuff the vulgar herd is content to swallow every day.

Let us work without theorizing, tis the only way to make life endurable.

Let us help one another to bear our burdens.

Everything's fine today, that is our illusion.