What dangers you run, O noble souls! Often, you give your heart, but we take only your body. Your heart is left to you and you look at it in the shadows and shudder.
Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure.
The great acts of love are done by those who are habitually performing small acts of kindness.
The learned man knows that he is ignorant.
Try as you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic of the human heart, love.
We are for religion against the religions.