Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.

What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of seed which may be spilt in a whore's lap, or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream, might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Bonaparte -- there is nothing remarkable recorded of their sires, that I know of.

Science is but the exchange of ignorance for that which is another kind of ignorance.

Truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.

Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, and broke the die.

What an antithetical mind! -- tenderness, roughness -- delicacy, coarseness -- sentiment, sensuality -- soaring and groveling, dirt and deity -- all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay!

Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.

A thousand years may scare form a state. An hour may lay it in ruins.

The best way will be to avoid each other without appearing to do so -- or if we jostle, at any rate not to bite.

Hatred is the madness of the heart.