Ignorance Is The Softest Pillow On Which

To Divert Myself From A Troublesome Fancy, It Is But To Run To My Books; They Presently Fix Me To Them, And Drive The Other Out Of My Thoughts, And Do Not Mutiny To See That I Have Only Recourse To Them For Want Of Other More, Real, Natural, And Lively Conveniences; They Always Receive Me With The Same Kindness.

Truth And Reason Are Common To Everyone, And Are No More His Who Spake Them First Than His Who Speaks Them After.

I Give My Opinion Not As Being Good, But As Being My Own.

I Had Rather Fashion My Mind Than Furnish It.

Man Is Quite Insane. He Wouldn?t Know How To Create A Maggot, And He Creates Gods By The Dozen.