The man who, in a fit of melancholy, kills himself today, would have wished to live had he waited a week.
If there’s life on other planets, then the earth is the Universe’s insane asylum.
This poem will never reach its destination. On Rousseau's Ode To Posterity
For seventeen hundred years the Christian sect has done nothing but harm.
But in this country it is necessary, now and then, to put one admiral to death in order to inspire the others to fight.
Nothing is more annoying than to be obscurely hanged.