Oh! how many times we die before death!

I read what I feel, and not what I see.

If you can attain repose and calm, believe that you have seized happiness.

Oh! how many times we die before death!

Calumny spreads like an oil-spot: we endeavor to cleanse it, but the mark remains.

none but the unhappy are worthy of friends; if your soul had never suffered never could you have entered mine.

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.