Jesting, Often, Only Proves A Want Of

A Simple Garb Is The Proper Costume Of The Vulgar; It Is Cut For Them, And Exactly Suits Their Measure, But It Is An Ornament For Those Who Have Filled Up Their Lives With Great Deeds. I Liken Them To Beauty In Dishabille, But More Bewitching On That Account.

The Same Vices Which Are Huge And Insupportable In Others We Do Not Feel In Ourselves.

The Very Impossibility In Which I Find Myself To Prove That God Is Not, Discloses To Me His Existence. [fr., L'impossibilite Ou Je Suis De Prouver Que Dieu N'est Pas, Me Decouvre Son Existence.]

The Events We Most Desire Do Not Happen; Or, If They Do, It Is Neither In The Time Nor In The Circumstances When They Would Have Given Us Extreme Pleasure.

If You Suppress The Exorbitant Love Of Pleasure And Money, Idle Curiosity, Iniquitous Pursuits And Wanton Mirth, What A Stillness Would There Be In The Greatest Cities.