A scholar's heart is a dark well in which are buried many aborted feelings that rise to the surface as arguments.

It is time for dead languages to keep quiet.

If only art were as rare as good taste.

Youth is not a question of years: one is young or old from birth.

Indiscretion has always seemed to me to be one of the privileges of tact.

Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.

doubt seems the only purity for those who are too fervent to deny, and too lucid to affirm.