I Build Only Living Stones--men.

Parisians Are So Besotted, So Silly And So Naturally Inept That A Street Player, A Seller Of Indulgences, A Mule With Its Cymbals,a Fiddler In The Middle Of A Crossroads, Will Draw More People Than Would A Good Evangelist Preacher.

Men That Are Free, Well-born, Well-bred, And Conversant In Honest Companies, Have Naturally An Instinct And Spur That Prompteth Them Unto Virtuous Actions, And Withdraws Them From Vice, Which Is Called Honour. Those Same Men, When By Base Subjection And Constraint They Are Brought Under And Kept Down, Turn Aside From That Noble Disposition, By Which They Formerly Were Inclined To Virtue, To Shake Off And Break That Bond Of Servitude, Wherein They Are So Tyrannously Enslaved; For It Is Agreeable With The Nature Of Man To Long After Things Forbidden, And To Desire What Is Denied Us.

How Shall I Be Able To Rule Over Others, That Have Not Full Power And Command Of Myself?

Half The World Does Not Know How The Other Half Lives.

If You Wish To Be Good "pantagruelists" (which Is To Say, Live In Peace, Joy, Health, And Always Dining Well), Never Put Too Much Faith In People Who Look Out Through A Hole.