I serve your Beaune to my friends, but your Volnay I keep for myself.
I am a little deaf, a little blind, a little important and on top of this are two or three abominable infirmities, but nothing destroys my hope.
The infinitely little have a pride infinitely great.
Satire lies about literary men while they live and eulogy lies about them when they die.
The multiplicity of facts and writings is become so great that every thing must soon be reduced to extracts and dictionaries.
Prejudice is opinion without judgement.