This world’s a bubble.

If I am given a formula, and I am ignorant of its meaning, it cannot teach me anything, but if I already know it what does the formula teach me?

The spiritual virtue of a sacrament is like light; although it passes among the impure, it is not polluted.

The soul, which is spirit, can not dwell in dust; it is carried along to dwell in the blood.

The verdict of the world is conclusive.

Bad company is like a nail driven into a post, which, after the first and second blow, may be drawn out with little difficulty; but being once driven up to the head, the pincers cannot take hold to draw it out, but which can only be done by the destruction of the wood.

God is best known in not knowing him.

He who labours, prays.

The honors of this world, what are they but puff, and emptiness, and peril of falling?

This world’s a bubble.

We make a ladder for ourselves of our vices, if we trample those same vices underfoot.

He fashioned hell for the inquisitive.

Blessedness consists in the accomplishment of our desires, and in our having only regular desires.

In doing what we ought we deserve no praise, because it is our duty.

The purpose of all war is peace.

Custom is second nature.

Repentant tears wash out the stain of guilt.