What happened between those two beings? Nothing. They were adoring one another.
The miserable's name is Man; he is agonizing in all climes, and he is groaning in all languages.
Love is like a tree, it grows of its own accord, it puts down deep roots into our whole being.
A republic may be called the climate of civilization.
I am not in the world to care for my life, but for souls.
One sometimes says: 'He killed himself because he was bored with life.' One ought rather to say: 'He killed himself because he was bored by lack of life.'