Of Belief Human mathematics, so to speak, like the length of life, are subject to the doctrine of chances.

There can be no passion, and by consequence no love, where there is not imagination.

Revolution is engendered by an indignation with tyranny, yet is itself pregnant with tyranny.

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

It is absurd to expect the inclinations and wishes of two human beings to coincide, through any long period of time. To oblige them to act and live together is to subject them to some inevitable potion of thwarting, bickering, and unhappiness.

The wise man is satisfied with nothing.

In cases where every thing is understood, and measured, and reduced to rule, love is out of the question.