We live in the best of all possible worlds
All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
Excellently observed", answered Candide; "but let us cultivate our garden.
Probably it is impossible for humor to be ever a revolutionary weapon. Candide can do little more than generate irony.
If this is the best of possible worlds, what then are the others?
Our labour preserves us from three great evils -- weariness, vice, and want.
All men are by nature free; you have therefore an undoubted liberty to depart whenever you please, but will have many and great difficulties to encounter in passing the frontiers.
It is love; love, the comfort of the human species, the preserver of the universe, the soul of all sentient beings, love, tender love.
What! Have you no monks to teach, to dispute, to govern, to intrigue and to burn people who do not agree with them?
"I have no more than twenty acres of ground," he replied, "the whole of which I cultivate myself with the help of my children; and our labor keeps off from us the three great evils - boredom, vice, and want."
We must cultivate our own garden.
I read only to please myself, and enjoy only what suits my taste.
Alas...I too have known love, that ruler of hearts, that soul of our soul: it's never brought me anything except one kiss and twenty kicks in the rump. How could such a beautiful cause produce such an abominable effect on you?
When his highness sends a ship to Egypt, does he trouble his head whether the mice on board are at their ease or not?
I'm not Candide, nor Dr Pangloss, but we know that faith moves mountains.
Dogs, monkeys, and parrots are a thousand times less miserable than we are.
Optimism," said Cacambo, "What is that?" "Alas!" replied Candide, "It is the obstinacy of maintaining that everything is best when it is worst.
I should like to know which is worse: to be ravished a hundred times by pirates, and have a buttock cut off, and run the gauntlet of the Bulgarians, and be flogged and hanged in an auto-da-fe, and be dissected, and have to row in a galley -- in short, to undergo all the miseries we have each of us suffered -- or simply to sit here and do nothing?' That is a hard question,' said Candide.
"You're a bitter man," said Candide. "That's because I've lived," said Martin.
But for what purpose was the earth formed?" asked Candide. "To drive us mad," replied Martin.
or simply: