Let us sacrifice one day to gain perhaps a whole life.
There is in every village a torch - the teacher; and an extinguisher - the priest.
I see black light (his last words)
I don't mind what Congress does, as long as they don't do it in the streets and frighten the horses.
A creditor is worse than a slave-owner; for the master owns only your person, but a creditor owns your dignity, and can command it.
One drop of wine is enough to redden a whole glass of water.
These are true felicities. No joy beyond these joys. Love is the only ecstasy, everything else weeps
It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.
There are many lovely women, but no perfect ones.
A fall from such a height is rarely straight downwards.
There have been in this century only one great man and one great thing: Napoleon and liberty. For want of the great man, let us have the great thing.
Well, for us, in history where goodness is a rare pearl, he who was good almost takes precedence over he who was great.
One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.
They say love is blindness of heart; I say not to love is blindness.
To breathe Paris is to preserve one's soul.
The world of sleep has an existence of its own.
The beautiful is as useful as the useful." He added after a moment’s silence, "Perhaps more so.
Wonderful nature has a double meaning, which dazzles great minds and blinds uncultivated souls. When man is ignorant, when the desert is filled with visions, the darkness of solitude is added to the darkness of intelligence; hence, in man, the possibilities of perdition
The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved.
Human society, the world, and the whole of mankind is to be found in the alphabet.
Morality is truth in full bloom.
You ask me what forces me to speak? a strange thing; my conscience.
The spirit of God, like the sun, always gives all its light at once. The spirit of man resembles the pale moon, which has its phases, its absences and its returns, its lucidity and its spots, its fullness and its disappearance, which borrows all its light from the rays of the sun, and which still dares to intercept them on occasion.
She was sad with an obscure sadness of which she had not the secret herself. There was in her whole person the stupor of a life ended but never commenced.
Hope is a delusion; no hand can grasp a wave or a shadow.
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