Coleridge cried; "O God, how glorious it is to live!" Renan asks, "O God, when will it be worth while to live?" In Nature we echo the poet; in the world we echo the thinker.

It is only to those who have never lived that death ever can seems beautiful.

It is hard work to be good when you are very little and very hungry, and have many sticks to beat you, and no mother's lips to kiss you.

age is nothing but death that is conscious.

The world never leaves one in ignorance or in peace.

We only see clearly when we have reached the depths of woe.

I do not wish to be a coward like the father of mankind and throw the blame upon a woman.