On a cold winter morning a cigar fortifies the soul.
Politics in the middle of things of the imagination is like a pistol shot in the middle of a concert.
Politics in a literary work, is like a gun shot in the middle of a concert, something vulgar, and however, something which is impossible to ignore.
One can acquire everything in solitude except character.
The only unhappiness is a life of boredom.
In our calling, we have to choose; we must make our fortune either in this world or in the next, there is no middle way.