Whenever government assumes to deliver us from the trouble of thinking for ourselves, the only consequences it produces are those of torpor and imbecility.

What indeed is life, unless so far as it is enjoyed? It does not merit the name.

Power is not happiness. Security and peace are more to be desired than a name at which nations tremble.

If ever there was a book calculated to make a man in love with its author, this appears to me to be the book.

The subtleties of mathematics defecate the grossness of our apprehension, and supply the elements of a sounder and severer logic.

The great model of the affection of love in human beings is the sentiment which subsists between parents and children.

Books gratify and excite our curiosity in innumerable ways.