Nothing is as peevish and pedantic as men's judgments of one another.

To know nothing is the happiest life.

A man must hug, and dandle, and kistle, and play a hundred little tricks with his bed-fellow when he is disposed to make that use of her that nature designed her for

Nature, more of a stepmother than a mother in several ways, has sown a seed of evil in the hearts of mortals, especially in the more thoughtful men, which makes them dissatisfied with their own lot and envious of another's.

By burning Luther's books you may rid your bookshelves of him, but you will not rid men's minds of him.

Nowadays the rage for possession has got to such a pitch that there is nothing in the realm of nature, whether sacred or profane, out of which profit cannot be squeezed.