A philosopher consumes his life in observing men, and he uses his esprit to unravel and ridicule their vices; if he gives some expression to his thoughts, it is less for the vanity of being an author than to make a truth he has seen clearly serve his design. Some readers nevertheless think that they are repaying him with interest if they majestically say that they have read his book, and found esprit; but he leaves all of their praises alone, which he didn't look for with his work and nightly vigils. He carries his project higher and works toward a nobler end: he asks from men a greater and rarer success than praises, and even than any reward, which is to make them better.