I Do Not Understand; I Pause; I

The Laws Of Conscience, Which We Pretend To Be Derived From Nature, Proceed From Custom.

A Little Of Everything And Nothing Thoroughly, After The French Fashion.

Memory Is A Wonderfully Useful Tool, And Without It Judgement Does Its Work With Difficulty; It Is Entirely Lacking In Me.... Now,the More I Distrust My Memory, The More Confused It Becomes. It Serves Me Better By Chance Encounter; I Have To Solicit It Nonchalantly. For If I Press It, It Is Stunned; And Once It Has Begun To Totter, The More I Probe It, The More It Gets Mixed Up And Embarrassed. It Serves Me At Its Own Time, Not At Mine.

I See This Evident, That We Willingly Accord To Piety Only The Services That Flatter Our Passions.

We Have No Participation In Being, Because All Human Nature Is Ever Midway Between Being Born And Dying, Giving Off Only A Vague Image And Shadow Of Itself, And A Weak And Uncertain Opinion. And If You Chance To Fix Your Thoughts On Trying To Grasp Its Essence, It Would Be Neither More Nor Less Than If Your Tried To Clutch Water.