The very might of the human intellect reveals its limits.

Truth only is prolific. Error, sterile in itself, produces only by means of the portion of truth which it contains. It may have offspring, but the life which it gives, like that of the hybrid races, cannot be transmitted.

As we advance in life the circle of our pains enlarges, while that of our pleasures contracts.

Those who have suffered much are like those who know many languages; they have learned to understand and be understood by all.

The very might of the human intellect reveals its limits.

We are amused through the intellect, but it is the heart that saves us from ennui.

Let us shun everything, which might tend to efface the primitive lineaments of our individuality. Let us reflect that each one of us is a thought of God.