It infuriates me to be wrong when I know I’m right.
Its as if you think you’d never findReason and the Sacred intertwined
Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.
A learned fool is more a fool than an ignorant fool.
There is nothing I detest so much as the contortions of these great time-and-lip servers, these affable dispensers of meaningless embraces, these obliging utterers of empty words, who view every one in civilities
If perchance a friend should betray you; if he forms a subtle plot to get hold of what is yours; if people should try to spread evil reports about you, would you tamely submit to all this without flying into a rage?
A wise man is superior to any insults which can be put upon him, and the best reply to unseemly behavior is patience and moderation.
My hate is general, I detest all men;Some because they are wicked and do evil,Others because they tolerate the wicked,Refusing them the active vigorous scornWhich vice should stimulate in virtuous minds.
Why put yourself in charge of Heaven’s cause?Does Heaven need our help to enforce its laws?
Betrayed and wronged in everything,I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is king,And seek some spot unpeopled and apartWhere I’ll be free to have an honest heart.
The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.
Writing is a little bit like prostitution. First you do it for love. Then you do it for a few friends. Then you do it for money.
All the ills of mankind, all the tragic misfortunes that fill the history books, all the political blunders, all the failures of the great leaders have arisen merely from a lack of skill at dancing.
I find that it is the best trade of all; for, whether we manage well or ill, we are paid just the same.