“Artificial intelligence will never be a match for natural stupidity.”

Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.

Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves.

If men of eminence are exposed to censure on one hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they do not deserve.

True benevolence or compassion, extends itself through the whole of existence and sympathizes with the distress of every creature capable of sensation.

It is not the business of virtue to extirpate the affections of the mind, but to regulate them.

Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth.

A man should always consider how much he has more than he wants.

I shall endeavor to enliven morality with wit, and to temper wit with morality.

Look what a little vain dust we are!

A man must be both stupid and uncharitable who believes there is no virtue or truth but on his own side.

Words, when well chosen, have so great a force in them, that a description often gives us more lively ideas than the sight of things themselves.

To be exempt from the passions with which others are tormented, is the only pleasing solitude.

Wit is the fetching of congruity out of incongruity.

A man’s first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own heart.

Man is subject to innumerable pains and sorrows by the very condition of humanity, and yet, as if nature had not sown evils enough in life, we are continually adding grief to grief and aggravating the common calamity by our cruel treatment of one another.

When all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view I’m lost, in wonder, love and praise.

It is part of the general pattern of misguided policy that our country is now geared to an arms economy which was bred in an artificially induced psychosis of war hysteria and nurtured upon an incessant propaganda of fear.

Borges, in part to legitimize his own Europhilia, correctly pointed out that expecting writers to engage with these romantic nationalist tropes was arbitrary and limiting, a genre that was demonstrative of its own artificiality.