A country without a memory is a country of madmen.
Many possessions, if they do not make a man better, are at least expected to make his children happier; and this pathetic hope is behind many exertions.
A soul is but the last bubble of a long fermentation in the world.
Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament.
All language is rhetorical, and even the senses are poets.
A conception not reducible to the small change of daily experience is like a currency not exchangeable for articles of consumption; it is not a symbol, but a fraud.