It is a very rare thing for a man of talent to succeed by his talent.

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.

Reason guides but a small part of man, and the rest obeys feeling, true or false, and passion, good or bad.

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.

No labor is hopeless.

Since unhappiness excites interest, many, in order to render themselves interesting, feign unhappiness.