Exile: A tomb in which you can get mail.

What is love, if it can calculate and provide against its own decay?

I never was able to believe in the existence of next year except as in a metaphysical notion.

Divine Wisdom, intending to detain us some time on earth, has done well to cover with a veil the prospect of the life to come; for if our sight could clearly distinguish the opposite bank, who would remain on this tempestuous coast of time?

I must keep on rowing, not until I reach port but until I reach my grave.

However old a conjugal union, it still garners some sweetness. Winter has some cloudless days, and under the snow a few flowers still bloom.

There are only two distinct classes of people on this earth, those who espouse enthusiasm and those who despise it.