Night brings our troubles to the light, rather than banishes them.

We should every night call ourselves to an account: what infirmity have I mastered today? what passions opposed? what temptation resisted? what virtue acquired? Our vices will abate of themselves if they be brought every day to the shrift.

Give yourself time and room; what reason could not avoid, delay has often cured

Leisure without literature is death and burial alive.

Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness.

We never reflect how pleasant it is to ask for nothing.