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?

Christians have been the most intolerant of all men.

Work is often the father of pleasure.

A circumstance which has always appeared wonderful to me, is that such sublime discoveries should have been made by the sole assistance of a quadrant and a little arithmetic.

He is lifeless that is faultless.

What would constitute useful history? That which should teach us our duties and our rights, without appearing to teach them.

For seventeen hundred years the Christian sect has done nothing but harm.