The impulse to travel is one of the hopeful symptoms of life.

To have given pleasure to one human being is a recollection that sweetens life.

It is difficult to admonish Frenchmen. Their habit of mind is unfavorable to preachment.

An appreciation of words is so rare that everybody naturally thinks he possesses it, and this universal sentiment results in the misuse of a material whose beauty enriches the loving student beyond the dreams of avarice.

People who cannot recognize a palpable absurdity are very much in the way of civilization.

We are tethered to our kind, and may as well join hands in the struggle.

Who that has plodded on to middle age would take back upon his shoulders ten of the vanished years, with their mingled pleasures and pains? Who would return to the youth he is forever pretending to regret?