Woman is the Sunday of man: not his repose only, but his joy; the salt of his life.

Every epoch dreams its successor.

Each year, it is necessary to respire, to take breath again, to revive ourselves at the great living sources that forever keep their eternal freshness. Where can we find them if not at the cradle of our race, on the sacred summits from where descend the Indus and the Ganges....?

What manly eloquence could produce such an effect as woman's silence?

How beautifully everything is arranged by Nature; as soon as a child enters the world, it finds a mother ready to take care of it.

Great hearts alone understand how much glory there is in being good.

He who would confine his thought to present time will not understand present reality.