The truly just is he who feels half guilty of your misdeeds.

The lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master.

All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.

Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.

He who does not prefer exile to slavery is not free by any measure of freedom, truth and duty.

Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names. It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed your forgiveness.

The best of man is he who blushes when you praise him and remains silent when you defame him.