“Only passions, and great passions, can raise the soul to great things. Without them there is no sublimity, either in morals or in creativity. Art returns to infancy, and virtue becomes small-minded.”

At an early age I sucked up the milk of Homer, Virgil, Horace, Terence, Anacreon, Plato and Euripides, diluted with that of Moses and the prophets.

We swallow with one gulp the lie that flatters us, and drink drop by drop the truth which is bitter to us.

Only the bad man is alone.

Give, but, if possible, spare the poor man the shame of begging.

Philosophy is as far separated from impiety as religion is from fanaticism.

Isn’t it better to have men being ungrateful than to miss a chance to do good?

I have not the hope of being immortal, because the desire of it has not given me that vanity.

Good music is very close to primitive language.

Anyone who takes it upon himself, on his private authority, to break a bad law, thereby authorizes everyone else to break the good ones.

Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.

I am wholly yours – you are everything to me; we will sustain each other in all the ills of life it may please fate to inflict upon us; you will soothe my troubles; I will comfort you in yours.

Justice is the first virtue of those who command, and stops the complaints of those who obey.

Scepticism is the first step toward truth.

Are we not madder than those first inhabitants of the plain of Sennar? We know that the distance separating the earth from the sky is infinite, and yet we do not stop building our tower.

I discuss with myself questions of politics, love, taste, or philosophy. I let my mind rove wantonly, give it free rein to followany idea, wise or mad that may present itself. My ideas are my harlots.

When one compares the talents one has with those of a Leibniz , one is tempted to throw away one’s books and go die quietly in the dark of some forgotten corner.