Of all the animals which fly in the air, walk on the land, or swim in the sea, from Paris to Peru, from Japan to Rome, the most foolish animal in my opinion is man.
In spite of every sage whom Greece can show, Unerring wisdom never dwelt below; Folly in all of every age we see, The only difference lies in the degree.
Whatever we conceive well we express clearly, and words flow with ease.
[Fr., Ce que l'on concoit bien s'enonce clairement,
Et les mots pour le dire arrivent aisement.]
Honor is like an island, rugged and without shores; we can never re-enter it once we are on the outside.
[Fr., L'honneur est comme une ile escarpee et sans bords;
On n'y peut plus rentrer des qu'on en est dehors.]
Whate'er is well conceived is clearly said, And the words to say it flow with ease.
However big the fool, there is always a bigger fool to admire him.
A fool always finds one still more foolish to admire him.
[Fr., Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire.]
At times truth may not seem probable.
It is the sin which we have not committed which seems the most monstrous.
Whatever we well understand we express clearly, and words flow with ease.
Gold gives an appearance of beauty even to ugliness: but with poverty everything becomes frightful.
Honor is like an island, rugged and without a beach; once we have left it, we can never return.
All men are fools, and with every effort they differ only in the degree.
A burlesque word is often a powerful sermon.
A fool can always find a greater fool who admires him.
Of every four words I write, I strike out three.
Time flies and draws us with it. The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me.
Something of calumny always sticks.
Who is content with nothing possesses all things.
Bring your work back to the workshop twenty times. Polish it continuously, and polish it again.
With poverty everything becomes frightful.
The dreadful burden of having nothing to do.
But satire, ever moral, ever new, Delights the reader and instructs him, too. She, if good sense refine her sterling page, Oft shakes some rooted folly of the age.
Every age has its pleasures, its style of wit, and its own ways.
He [Moliere] pleases all the world, but can- not please himself.
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