The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a caress, and only waiting for the signal.

Our reason may prove what it will: our reason is only a feeble ray that has issued from Nature.

Most creatures have a vague belief that a very precarious hazard, a kind of transparent membrane, divides death from love; and that the profound idea of nature demands that the giver of life should die at the moment of giving.

Physical suffering apart, not a single sorrow exists that can touch us except through our thoughts.

The living are just the dead on holiday

If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live.

Above all, let us never forget that an act of goodness is in itself an act of happiness. It is the flower of a long inner life of joy and contentment; it tells of peaceful hours and days on the sunniest heights of our soul.