The slave begins by demanding justice and ends by wanting to wear a crown.
We are all special cases.
My dear friend, we mustn't give them even the slightest excuse to judge us! Otherwise, we end up in pieces.
but perhaps we should love what we cannot understand
What did it matter if he existed for two or for twenty years? Happiness was the fact that he had existed.
I feel like getting married, or committing suicide, or subscribing to L'Illustration. Something desperate, you know.