It would seem that by our sorrows only are we called to a knowledge of the Infinite. Are we happy? The limits of life constrain us on all sides.

The very might of the human intellect reveals its limits.

There is a transcendent power in example.

In youth we feel richer for every new illusion; in maturer years, for every one we lose.

By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.

We expect everything and are prepared for nothing.

Silence is like nightfall. Objects are lost in it insensibly.