There are people who laugh to show their fine teeth; and there are those who cry to show their good hearts.

What is love? two souls and one flesh; friendship? two bodies and one soul.

Friends are rare for, the good reason that men are not common.

That which we know is but little; that which we have a presentiment of is immense; it is in this direction that the poet outruns the learned man.

No labor is hopeless.

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.

There are people who laugh to show their fine teeth; and there are those who cry to show their good hearts.