Doubt of the reality of love ends by making us doubt everything.
Philosophy starts with doubt and loves only truth.
Action and faith enslave thought, both of them in order not be troubled or inconvenienced by reflection, criticism, and doubt.
I wonder whether I should gain anything by the attempt to assume a character which is not mine. My wavering manner, born of doubt and scruple, has at least the advantage of rendering all the different shades of my thought, and of being sincere. If it were to become terse, affirmative, resolute, would it not be a mere imitation?
Doubt is the accomplice of tyranny.
