Wit Is The God Of Moments, But

The Best Thing Next To Wit Is A Consciousness That It Is Not In Us; Without Wit, A Man Might Then Know How To Behave Himself, So As Not To Appear To Be A Fool Or A Coxcomb.

There Are Only Two Ways By Which To Rise In This World, Either By One's Own Industry Or By The Stupidity Of Others.

It Is Difficult For A Proud Man Ever To Forgive A Person Who Has Found Him At Fault, And Who Has Good Grounds For Complaining Of Him; His Pride Is Not Assuaged Till He Has Regained The Advantages He Lost And Put The Other Person In The Wrong.

Laziness Begat Wearisomeness, And This Put Men In Quest Of Diversions, Play And Company, On Which However It Is A Constant Attendant; He Who Works Hard, Has Enough To Do With Himself Otherwise.

Profane Eloquence Is Transfered From The Bar, Where Le Maitre, Pucelle, And Fourcroy Formerly Practised It, And Where It Has Become Obsolete, To The Pulpit, Where It Is Out Of Place.