Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it.
You conquered the landscape with the soles of shoes, not the tires.
To drink is a small matter. To be thirsty is everything.
It is strange what a contempt men have for the joys that are offered them freely.
We do not know the true value of our moments until they have undergone the test of memory.
Suffering has roused them from the sleep of gentle life, and every day fills them with a terrible intoxication. They are now something more than themselves; those we loved were merely happy shadows.