After his blood, that which a man can next give out of himself is a tear.
Let us savour the swift delights of the most beautiful of our days!
Mystery hovers over all things here below.
The impartiality of history is not that of the mirror, which merely reflects objects, but of the judge, who sees, listens, and decides.
Poets and heroes are of the same race, the latter do what the former conceive.
All our tastes are but reminiscences.