I am hungry, feed me; I am bored, amuse me.

Without reflecting that this is the only moment in which you can study character," said the count; "on the steps of the scaffold death tears off the mask that has been worn through life, and the real visage is disclosed.

Are there not some places where we seem to breathe sadness? — why, we cannot tell. It is a chain of recollections — an idea which carries you back to other times, to other places — which, very likely, have no connection with the present time and place.

That is a dream also; only he has remained asleep, while you have awakened; and who knows which of you is the most fortunate?

(...) the tree forsakes not the flower: the flower falls from the tree.

Why, in truth, sir," was Monte Cristo's reply, "man is but an ugly caterpillar for him who studies him through a solar microscope; but you said, I think, that I had nothing else to do. Now, really, let me ask, sir, have you? — do you believe you have anything to do? or to speak in plain terms, do you really think that what you do deserves being called anything?

Unfortunates, who ought to begin with God, do not have any hope in him till they have exhausted all other means of deliverance.