We Like To Be Deceived.

When We Read Too Fast Or Too Slowly, We Understand Nothing.

Notwithstanding The Sight Of All Our Miseries, Which Press Upon Us And Take Us By The Throat, We Have An Instinct Which We Cannot Repress, And Which Lifts Us Up.

We Must Keep Our Thought Secret, And Judge Everything By It, While Talking Like The People.

Orthodoxy On One Side Of The Pyrenees May Be Heresy On The Other.

The Imagination Enlarges Little Objects So As To Fill Our Souls With A Fantastic Estimate; And, With Rash Insolence, It Belittles The Great To Its Own Measure, As When Talking Of God.