Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!' Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face Contemptuous pride of knowledge Death, that faithful friend of the wretched Houses are vessels which take mere passengers I make it a rule never to have any hope Ignorant of what there is to wish for Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance More stir than work Nothing is dishonorable which is useful Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims The happiness of the wise man costs but little We do not understand that others may live on their own account What have you done with the days God granted you You may know the game by the lair