It so difficult to know what the people we love really need.
Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.
Nature is honest, we aren't; we embalm our dead.
A vague uneasiness: the police. It's like when you suddenly understand you have to undress in front of the doctor.
'Mad' is a term we use to describe a man who is obsessed with one idea and nothing else.
Is not man himself the most unsettled of all the creatures of the earth? What is this trembling sensation that is intensified with each ascending step in the natural order?