It is from cowardice and not from want of enlightenment that we do not read in our own hearts.
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
I see but one rule: to be clear.
Spring appears and we are once more children.
Love born in the brain is more spirited, doubtless, than true love, but it has only flashes of enthusiasm; it knows itself too well, it criticizes itself incessantly; so far from banishing thought, it is itself reared only upon a structure of thought.
The Russians imitate French ways, but always at a distance of fifty years.