Wars are fought for the benefit of oligarchs, triumphs bought with the blood of peons.

Habit is a second nature which prevents us from knowing the first, of which it has neither the cruelties nor the enchantments.

Now are the woods all black, But still the sky is blue.

But,instead of what our imagination makes us suppose and which we worthless try to discover,life gives us something that we could hardly imagine.

It is always during a passing state of mind that we make lasting resolutions.

Medicine being a compendium of the successive and contradictory mistakes of medical practitioners, when we summon the wisest of them to our aid, the chances are that we may be relying on a scientific truth the error of which will be recognized in a few years time.

Are not the thoughts of the dying often turned towards the practical, painful, obscure, visceral aspect, towards the "seamy side" of death which is, as it happens, the side that death actually presents to them and forces them to feel, and which far more closely resembles a crushing burden, a difficulty in breathing, a destroying thirst, than the abstract idea to which we are accustomed to give the name of Death?