The abuse of grace is affectation, as the abuse of the sublime is absurdity; all perfection is nearly a fault.

I have been a hundred times on the point of killing myself, but still was fond of life. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our worst instincts. What can be more absurd than choosing to carry a burden that one really wants to throw to the ground? To detest, and yet to strive to preserve our existence? To caress the serpent that devours us, and hug him close to our bosoms till he has gnawed into our hearts?

What! Have you no monks to teach, to dispute, to govern, to intrigue and to burn people who do not agree with them?

Appreciation is a wonderful thing: It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.

What is toleration? It is the prerogative of humanity. We are all steeped in weaknesses and errors: Let us forgive one another's follies, it is the first law of nature.

If mankind were born tomorrow it would divide into groups; each would scramble to invent their one and only god, and set about butchering each-other.

Prejudice is opinion without judgement.