We are all of us, in this world, more or less like St. January, whom the inhabitants of Naples worship one day, and pelt with baked apples the next.

Strength alone knows conflict, weakness is born vanquished.

When we see the shameful fortunes amassed in all quarters of the globe, are we not impelled to exclaim that Judas' thirty pieces of silver have fructified across the centuries?

Men are always invoking justice; yet it is justice which should make them tremble.

Where there is a question of economy, I prefer privation.

Let our lives be pure as snowfields, where our steps leave a mark but no stain.

There are not good things enough in life to indemnify us for the neglect of a single duty.