Logic Is The Technique By Which We

For A Long Time Visits Among Lovers And Professions Of Love Are Kept Up Through Habit, After Their Behavior Has Plainly Proved That Love No Longer Exists.

It Is A Sad Thing When Men Have Neither Enough Intelligence To Speak Well Nor Enough Sense To Hold Their Tongues; This Is The Root Of All Impertinence.

A Man Starts Upon A Sudden, Takes Pen, Ink, And Paper, And Without Ever Having Had A Thought Of It Before, Resolves Within Himself He Will Write A Book; He Has No Talent At Writing, But He Wants Fifty Guineas.

Eminent Station Makes Great Men More Great, And Little Ones Less.

False Greatness Is Unsociable And Remote: Conscious Of Its Own Frailty, It Hides, Or At Least Averts Its Face, And Reveals Itself Only Enough To Create An Illusion And Not Be Recognized As The Meanness That It Really Is. True Greatness Is Free, Kind, Familiar And Popular; It Lets Itself Be Touched And Handled, It Loses Nothing By Being Seen At Close Quarters; The Better One Knows It, The More One Admires It.