Not ill? No truly, I am young, healthful, and strong; the blood flows freely in my veins; my limbs obey my will; I am robust in mind and body, constituted for a long life. Yes, all this is true; and yet, nevertheless, I have an illness, a fatal illness,-an illness given by the hand of man!

God blesses man, not for having found but for having sought.

Jean Prouvaire was timid only in repose. Once excited, he burst forth, a sort of mirth accentuated his enthusiasm, and he was at once both laughing and lyric.

He who opens a school door, closes a prison.

Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?

That is the explanation of war, an outrage by humanity upon humanity in despite of humanity.

God has made the cat to give man the pleasure of caressing the tiger.