The heart of man does not tolerate an absence of the excellent and supreme.

We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfection upon another person. One day, the fantasy evaporates and with it, love dies.

Law is born from despair of human nature.

The cynic, a parasite of civilization, lives by denying it, for the very reason that he is convinced that it will not fail.

The type of human being we prefer reveals the contours of our heart.

I am myself and what is around me, and if I do not save it, it shall not save me.

It is not obligatory for a generation to have great men.