“What is the verdict of the vastest mind?Silence: the book of fate is closed to us.Man is a stranger to his own research;He knows not whence he comes, nor whither goes.Tormented atoms in a bed of mud,Devoured by death, a mockery of fate.But thinking atoms, whose far-seeing eyes,Guided by thought, have measured the faint stars,Our being mingles with the infinite;Ourselves we never see, or come to know.”

“It is not sufficient to see and to know the beauty of a work. We must feel and be affected by it. ”

“What can be more absurd than choosing to carry a burden that one really wants to throw to the ground? To detest, and yet to strive to preserve our existence? To caress the serpent that devours us and hug him close to our bosoms tillhe has gnawed into our hearts?”

“I have lived eighty years of life and know nothing for it, but to be resigned and tell myself that flies are born to be eaten by spiders and man to be devoured by sorrow.”

“Our character is composed of our ideas and our feelings: and, since it has been proved that we give ourselves neither feelings nor ideas, our character does not depend on us. If it did depend on us, there is nobody who would not be perfect. If one does not reflect, one thinks oneself master of everything; but when one does reflect, one realizes that one is master of nothing”

“What can be feared when one is doing one's duty? I know the rage of my enemies. I know all their slanders; but when one only tries to do good to men and when one does not offend heaven, one can fear nothing, neither during life nor after death.”

“He wanted to know how they prayed to God in El Dorado. "We do not pray to him at all," said the reverend sage. "We have nothing to ask of him. He has given us all we want, and we give him thanks continually.”