If the rose puzzled its mind over the question how it grew, it would not have been the miracle that it is.
Never trust a sentimentalist. They are all alike, pretenders to virtue, at heart selfish frauds and sensualists.
Personality is born out of pain. It is the fire shut up in the flint.
The Americans never walk. In winter too cold and in summer too hot.
Always when I see a man fond of praise I always think it is because he is an affectionate man craving for affection
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