Absolute Silence Leads To Sadness.

Provided A Man Is Not Mad, He Can Be Cured Of Every Folly But Vanity; There Is No Cure For This But Experience, If Indeed There Is Any Cure For It At All.

I Undertake The Same Project As Montaigne, But With An Aim Contrary To His Own: For He Wrote His Essays Only For Others, And I Write My Reveries Only For Myself.

Abstaining So As Really To Enjoy, Is The Epicurism, The Very Perfection, Of Reason.

There Exists One Book, Which, To My Taste, Furnishes The Happiest Treatise Of Natural Education. What Then Is This Marvelous Book? Is It Aristotle? Is It Pliny, Is It Buffon? No-it Is Robinson Crusoe.

A Blue-stocking Is The Scourge Of Her Husband, Children, Friends, Servants, And Every One. [fr., Une Femme Bel-esprit Est Le Fleau De Son Mari, De Ses Enfants, De Ses Amis, De Ses Valets, Et Tout Le Monde.]