Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men
A joyous little creature, so beautiful, It was as if a gate of Heaven opened as she came in.
There is a determined though unseen bravery that defends itself foot by foot in the darkness against the fatal invasions of necessity and dishonesty. Noble and mysterious triumphs that no eye sees, and no fame rewards, and no flourish of triumph salutes. Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields that have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes greater than the illustrious heroes.
Who then can calculate the path of the molecule? how do we know that the creations of worlds are not determined by the fall of grains of sand?
The beautiful has but one type, the ugly has a thousand.
Prayer is an august avowal of ignorance.
All animals are to be found in men and each of theme exists in some man, sometimes several at the time.
Men are still men. The despot's wickedness Comes of ill teaching, and of power's excess,-- Comes of the purple he from childhood wears, Slaves would be tyrants if the chance were theirs.
In saying no to progress, it is not the future which they condemn, but themselves. They give themselves a melancholy disease; they inoculate themselves with the past. There is but one way of refusing tomorrow, that is to die.
God became man, granted. The devil became a woman.
Nothing awakens reminiscence like an aroma.
Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?
Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure.
What is said about men often has as much influence upon their lives, and especially upon their destinies, as what they do.
Wisdom and eloquence are not always united.
A library implies an act of faith which generations, still in darkness hid, sign in their night in witness of the dawn.
Art moves. Hence its civilizing power.
Ma vie est une énigme dont ton nom est le mot. (My life is an enigma, of which your name is the word.)
A stand can be made against invasion by an army; no stand can be made against invasion by an idea.
"Animals are happy," said the queen. "They run no risk of going to hell." "They are there already," replied Josiana.
If you are leaving that sorrowful place with hate and anger against men, you are worthy of compassion; if you leave it with good will, gentleness and peace, you are better than any of us.
The last resort of kings, the cannonball. The last resort of the people, the paving stone.
In love, such a word, whispered, is a mysterious kiss of the soul to the soul.
He does not weep who does not see.
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.
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