An old philosopher said to Monsieur Coignard, a Reverend Father: 'You are a pig!' To which Abad Coignard answered: 'You flatter me, sir. But unfortunately, I'm only a man.'

One thing above all gives charm to men's thoughts, and this is unrest. A mind that is not uneasy irritates and bores me.

Armenia is dying, but it will survive. The little blood that it still has left is precious blood that will give birth to a heroic generation. A nation that does not want to die, does not die.

The heart errs like the head; its errors are not any the less fatal, and we have more trouble getting free of them because of their sweetness.

You think you are dying for your country; you die for the industrialists.

To die for an idea is to set a rather high price upon conjecture.

Word-carpentry is like any other kind of carpentry: you must join your sentences smoothly.