Although A Man May Wear Fine Clothing,

To Attempt The Destruction Of Our Passions Is The Height Of Folly. What A Noble Aim Is That Of The Zealot Who Tortures Himself Like A Madman In Order To Desire Nothing, Love Nothing, Feel Nothing, And Who, If He Succeeded, Would End Up A Complete Monster!

If Reason Be A Gift Of Heaven, And We Can Say As Much Of Faith, Heaven Has Certainly Made Us Two Gifts Not Only Incompatible, But In Direct Contradiction To Each Other. In Order To Solve The Difficulty, We Are Compelled To Say Either That Faith Is A Chimera Or That Reason Is Useless.

There Is No Moral Precept That Does Not Have Something Inconvenient About It.

Posterity For The Philosopher Is What The Other World Is For The Religious Man.

Gentleness And Peacefulness Regulate Our Proceedings; Theirs Are Dictated By Fury. We Employ Reason, They Accumulate Faggots. They Preach Nothing But Love, And Breathe Nothing But Blood. Their Words Are Humane, But Their Hearts Are Cruel.