Essays of Michel de Montaigne - 108

The consequence of common examples
The day of your birth is one day’s advance towards the grave
The deadest deaths are the best
The event often justifies a very foolish conduct
The faintness that surprises in the exercises of Venus
The gods sell us all the goods they give us
The good opinion of the vulgar is injurious
The honour we receive from those that fear us is not honour
The ignorant return from the combat full of joy and triumph
The impulse of nature, which is a rough counsellor
The last informed is better persuaded than the first
The mean is best
The mind grows costive and thick in growing old
The most manifest sign of wisdom is a continual cheerfulness
The most voluntary death is the finest
The particular error first makes the public error
The pedestal is no part of the statue
The privilege of the mind to rescue itself from old age
The reward of a thing well done is to have done it
The satiety of living, inclines a man to desire to die
The sick man has not to complain who has his cure in his sleeve
The storm is only begot by a concurrence of angers
The thing in the world I am most afraid of is fear
The very name Liberality sounds of Liberty
The vice opposite to curiosity is negligence
The virtue of the soul does not consist in flying high
Their disguises and figures only serve to cosen fools
Their labour is not to delivery, but about conception
Their pictures are not here who were cast away
Their souls seek repose in agitation
There are defeats more triumphant than victories
There are some upon whom their rich clothes weep
There can be no pleasure to me without communication
There is more trouble in keeping money than in getting it
There is no allurement like modesty, if it be not rude
There is no long, nor short, to things that are no more
There is no merchant that always gains
There is no reason that has not its contrary
There is no recompense becomes virtue
There is none of us who would not be worse than kings
There is nothing I hate so much as driving a bargain
There is nothing like alluring the appetite and affections
There is nothing single and rare in respect of nature
These sleepy, sluggish sort of men are often the most dangerous
They (good women) are not by the dozen, as every one knows
They begin to teach us to live when we have almost done living
They better conquer us by flying
They buy a cat in a sack
They can neither lend nor give anything to one another
They do not see my heart, they see but my countenance
They err as much who too much forbear Venus
They gently name them, so they patiently endure them (diseases)
They have heard, they have seen, they have done so and so
They have not one more invention left wherewith to amuse us
They have not the courage to suffer themselves to be corrected
They have yet touched nothing of that which is mine
They juggle and trifle in all their discourses at our expense
They must be very hard to please, if they are not contented
They must become insensible and invisible to satisfy us
They neither instruct us to think well nor to do well
They never loved them till dead
They who would fight custom with grammar are triflers
Thing at which we all aim, even in virtue is pleasure
Things grow familiar to men’s minds by being often seen
Things I say are better than those I write
Things often appear greater to us at distance than near at hand
Things seem greater by imagination than they are in effect
Things that engage us elsewhere and separate us from ourselves
Think myself no longer worth my own care
Think of physic as much good or ill as any one would have me
Thinking nothing done, if anything remained to be done
Thinks nothing profitable that is not painful
This decay of nature which renders him useless, burdensome
This plodding occupation of bookes is as painfull as any other
Those immodest and debauched tricks and postures
Those oppressed with sorrow sometimes surprised by a smile
Those which we fear the least are, peradventure, most to be fear
Those who can please and hug themselves in what they do
Those within (marriage) despair of getting out
Thou diest because thou art living
Thou wilt not feel it long if thou feelest it too much
Though I be engaged to one forme, I do not tie the world unto it
Though nobody should read me, have I wasted time
Threats of the day of judgment
Thucydides: which was the better wrestler
Thy own cowardice is the cause, if thou livest in pain
Tis all swine’s flesh, varied by sauces
Tis an exact life that maintains itself in due order in private
Tis better to lean towards doubt than assurance--Augustine
Tis evil counsel that will admit no change
Tis far beyond not fearing death to taste and relish it
Tis for youth to subject itself to common opinions
Tis impossible to deal fairly with a fool
Tis in some sort a kind of dying to avoid the pain of living well
Tis more laudable to obey the bad than the good
Tis no matter; it may be of use to some others
Tis not the cause, but their interest, that inflames them
Tis not the number of men, but the number of good men
Tis said of Epimenides, that he always prophesied backward
Tis so I melt and steal away from myself
Tis the sharpnss of our mind that gives the edge to our pains
Tis then no longer correction, but revenge
Tis there she talks plain French
Titillation of ill-natured pleasure in seeing others suffer
Title of barbarism to everything that is not familiar
Titles being so dearly bought
Titles of my chapters do not always comprehend the whole matter
To be a slave, incessantly to be led by the nose by one’s self
To be, not to seem
To condemn them as impossible, is by a temerarious presumption
To contemn what we do not comprehend
To die of old age is a death rare, extraordinary, and singular
To do well where there was danger was the proper office
To forbear doing is often as generous as to do
To forbid us anything is to make us have a mind to’t
To fret and vex at folly, as I do, is folly itself
To give a currency to his little pittance of learning
To go a mile out of their way to hook in a fine word
To keep me from dying is not in your power
To kill men, a clear and strong light is required
To know by rote, is no knowledge
To make little things appear great was his profession
To make their private advantage at the public expense
To smell, though well, is to stink
To study philosophy is nothing but to prepare one’s self to die
To what friend dare you intrust your griefs
To whom no one is ill who can be good?
Tongue will grow too stiff to bend
Too contemptible to be punished
Torture: rather a trial of patience than of truth
Totally brutified by an immoderate thirst after knowledge
Transferring of money from the right owners to strangers
Travel with not only a necessary, but a handsome equipage
True liberty is to be able to do what a man will with himself
Truly he, with a great effort will shortly say a mighty trifle
Truth itself has not the privilege to be spoken at all times
Truth, that for being older it is none the wiser
Turks have alms and hospitals for beasts
Turn up my eyes to heaven to return thanks, than to crave
Tutor to the ignorance and folly of the first we meet
Twas a happy marriage betwixt a blind wife and a deaf husband
Twenty people prating about him when he is at stool
Two opinions alike, no more than two hairs
Two principal guiding reins are reward and punishment
Tyrannic sourness not to endure a form contrary to one’s own
Tyrannical authority physicians usurp over poor creatures
Unbecoming rudeness to carp at everything
Under fortune’s favour, to prepare myself for her disgrace
Universal judgments that I see so common, signify nothing
Unjust judges of their actions, as they are of ours
Unjust to exact from me what I do not owe
Upon the precipice, ‘tis no matter who gave you the push
Use veils from us the true aspect of things
Utility of living consists not in the length of days
Valour has its bounds as well as other virtues
Valour whetted and enraged by mischance
Valour will cause a trembling in the limbs as well as fear
Valuing the interest of discipline
Vast distinction betwixt devotion and conscience
Venture it upon his neighbour, if he will let him
venture the making ourselves better without any danger
Very idea we invent for their chastity is ridiculous
Vice of confining their belief to their own capacity
Vices will cling together, if a man have not a care
Victorious envied the conquered
Virtue and ambition, unfortunately, seldom lodge together
Virtue is a pleasant and gay quality
Virtue is much strengthened by combats
Virtue refuses facility for a companion
Viscid melting kisses of youthful ardour in my wanton age
Voice and determination of the rabble, the mother of ignorance
Vulgar reports and opinions that drive us on
We are masters of nothing but the will
We are not to judge of counsels by events
We ask most when we bring least
We believe we do not believe
We can never be despised according to our full desert
We cannot be bound beyond what we are able to perform
We confess our ignorance in many things
We consider our death as a very great thing
We do not correct the man we hang; we correct others by him
We do not easily accept the medicine we understand
We do not go, we are driven
We do not so much forsake vices as we change them
We have lived enough for others
We have more curiosity than capacity
We have naturally a fear of pain, but not of death
We have not the thousandth part of ancient writings
We have taught the ladies to blush
We much more aptly imagine an artisan upon his close-stool
We must learn to suffer what we cannot evade
We neither see far forward nor far backward
We only labour to stuff the memory
We ought to grant free passage to diseases
We say a good marriage because no one says to the contrary
We set too much value upon ourselves
We still carry our fetters along with us
We take other men’s knowledge and opinions upon trust
Weakness and instability of a private and particular fancy
Weigh, as wise: men should, the burden of obligation
Well, and what if it had been death itself?
Were more ambitious of a great reputation than of a good one
What a man says should be what he thinks
What are become of all our brave philosophical precepts?
What can they not do, what do they fear to do (for beauty)
What can they suffer who do not fear to die?
What did I say? that I have? no, Chremes, I had
What he did by nature and accident, he cannot do by design
What is more accidental than reputation?
What may be done to-morrow, may be done to-day
What more? they lie with their lovers learnedly
What need have they of anything but to live beloved and honoured
What sort of wine he liked the best: “That of another”
What step ends the near and what step begins the remote
What they ought to do when they come to be men
What we have not seen, we are forced to receive from other hands
What, shall so much knowledge be lost
Whatever was not ordinary diet, was instead of a drug
When I travel I have nothing to care for but myself
When jealousy seizes these poor souls
When their eyes give the lie to their tongue
When time begins to wear things out of memory
When we have got it, we want something else
“When will this man be wise,” said he, “if he is yet learning?”
When you see me moved first, let me alone, right or wrong
Where the lion’s skin is too short
Where their profit is, let them there have their pleasure too
Wherever the mind is perplexed, it is in an entire disorder
Whilst thou wast silent, thou seemedst to be some great thing
Whimpering is offensive to the living and vain to the dead
Who by their fondness of some fine sounding word
Who can flee from himself
Who discern no riches but in pomp and show
Who does not boast of some rare recipe
Who escapes being talked of at the same rate
Who ever saw one physician approve of another’s prescription
Who has once been a very fool, will never after be very wise
Who would weigh him without the honour and grandeur of his end
Whoever expects punishment already suffers it
Whoever will be cured of ignorance must confess it
Whoever will call to mind the excess of his past anger
Whosoever despises his own life, is always master
Why do we not imitate the Roman architecture?
Wide of the mark in judging of their own works
Willingly give them leave to laugh after we are dead
Willingly slip the collar of command upon any pretence whatever
Wisdom has its excesses, and has no less need of moderation
Wisdom is folly that does not accommodate itself to the common
Wise man lives as long as he ought, not so long as he can
Wise man never loses anything if he have himself
Wise man to keep a curbing hand upon the impetus of friendship
Wise may learn more of fools, than fools can of the wise
Wise whose invested money is visible in beautiful villas
Wiser who only know what is needful for them to know
With being too well I am about to die
Woman who goes to bed to a man, must put off her modesty
Women who paint, pounce, and plaster up their ruins
Wont to give others their life, and not to receive it
World where loyalty of one’s own children is unknown
Worse endure an ill-contrived robe than an ill-contrived mind
Would have every one in his party blind or a blockhead
Would in this affair have a man a little play the servant
Wrangling arrogance, wholly believing and trusting in itself
Wretched and dangerous thing to depend upon others
Write what he knows, and as much as he knows, but no more
Wrong the just side when they go about to assist it with fraud
Yet at least for ambition’s sake, let us reject ambition
Yet do we find any end of the need of interpretating?
You and companion are theatre enough to one another
You have lost a good captain, to make of him a bad general
You may indeed make me die an ill death
You must first see us die
You must let yourself down to those with whom you converse
Young and old die upon the same terms
Young are to make their preparations, the old to enjoy them