“Time has nothing to do with the matter.”

Doubts are more cruel than the worst of truths.

Malicious tongues spread their poison abroad and nothing here below is proof against them.

People spend most of their lives worrying about things that never happen.

There is no praise to bear the sort that you put in your pocket.

And knowing money is a root of evil, in Christian charity, he’d take away whatever things may hinder your salvation.

It’s true Heaven forbids some pleasures, but a compromise can usually be found.

The impromptu reply is precisely the touchstone of the man of wit.

Then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave’s a fine and private place But none, I think, do there embrace.

The true touchstone of wit is the impromptu.

The envious will die, but envy never.

Two wives? That exceeds the custom.

The most effective way of attacking vice is to expose it to public ridicule. People can put up with rebukes but they cannot bear being laughed at: they are prepared to be wicked but they dislike appearing ridiculous.

Dom Juan believes neither in Heaven, nor the saints, nor God, nor the Werewolf.

Age brings about everything; but it is not the time, Madam, as we know, to be a prude at twenty.

I will maintain it before the whole world.

To create a public scandal is what’s wicked; to sin in private is not a sin.

Beer is sacred business, a mood-altering food substance that may have preserved the human species.

What I’m above all primarily concerned with is the substance of life, the pith of reality.

We don’t usually see light traveling in darkness of space because we only can see its reflection on substance.

If I was having a bad day, eating was like self-medicating. But if you abuse food, you still have to use that substance that you abuse every day.

The reality of life is that we are exposed to a multiplicity of toxic substances.

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.

Only when the pursuit ceases, is it possible to recognize what comprises you: pure being, pure consciousness. This is actually the very substance of your own self and being.

They are immeasurable, completely lacking in substance. They are perfect and sublime. This is the subject matter of art.