Women Are Extreme; They Are

If Poverty Is The Mother Of All Crimes, Lack Of Intelligence Is The Father.

The Great Gift Of Conversation Lies Less In Displaying It Ourselves Than In Drawing It Out Of Others. He Who Leaves Your Company Pleased With Himself And His Own Cleverness Is Perfectly Well Pleased With You.

What Greater Weakness Can There Be Than Not To Know What Is The Source Of One's Being, Of One's Life, Of One's Senses, Of One's Knowledge, And What Is To Be Their End? What Can Be More Deeply Disheartening Than To Wonder Whether One's Soul Is, Perhaps, A Material Thing, Like A Stone Or A Reptile, Corruptible Like These Base Creatures? Is There Not More Strength And Greatness Of Mind In Admitting The Idea Of A Being Superior To All Other Beings, Who Has Made Them All And To Whom All Owe Their Existence; Of A Being Supremely Perfect, Who Is Pure, Who Had No Beginning And Can Have No Ending, Of Whom Our Soul Is The Image And, So To Speak, A Portion, Being A Spiritual And Immortal Thing?

Laziness Begat Wearisomeness, And This Put Men In Quest Of Diversions, Play And Company, On Which However It Is A Constant Attendant; He Who Works Hard, Has Enough To Do With Himself Otherwise.

A Coxcomb Is One Whom Simpletons Believe To Be A Man Of Merit.