A wretched woman is more unfortunate than a wretched man.

A day will come when there will be no battlefields, but markets opening to commerce and minds opening to ideas.

The man who fights against his own country is never a hero.

Does there exist an Infinity outside ourselves? Is that infinity One, immanent and permanent, necessarily having substance, since He is infinite and if He lacked matter He would be limited, necessarily possessing intelligence since He is infinite and, lacking intelligence, He would be in that sense finite. Does this Infinity inspire in us the idea of essense, while to ourselves we can only attribute the idea of existence? In order words, is He not the whole of which we are but the part?

If a man has his throat cut in Paris, it's a murder. If 50,000 people are murdered in the east, it is a question.

Dirt has been shrewdly termed "misplaced material.

Let us have compassion for those under chastisement. Alas, who are we ourselves? Who am I and who are you? Whence do we come and is it quite certain that we did nothing before we were born? This earth is not without some resemblance to a gaol. Who knows but that man is a victim of divine justice? Look closely at life. It is so constituted that one senses punishment everywhere.