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.
When I am not too sad to listen, music is my consolation.
Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them.
Friendship is in the end no more than: " . . . a lie which seeks to make us believe that we are not irremediably alone."
It is always during a passing state of mind that we make lasting resolutions.
The features of our face are hardly more than gestures which force of habit made permanent. Nature, like the destruction of Pompeii, like the metamorphosis of a nymph into a tree, has arrested us in an accustomed movement.