The living are just the dead on holiday

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

The dog who meets with a good master is the happier of the two.

It is the evil that lies in ourselves that is ever least tolerant of the evil that dwells within others.

All our knowledge merely helps us to die a more painful death than animals that know nothing.

At every crossroad on the way that leads to the future, each progressive spirit is opposed by a thousand men appointed to guard the past.

He who sees without loving is only straining his eyes in the darkness.