Jesus wept; Voltaire smiled. From that divine tear and from that human smile is derived the grace of present civilization.
The most beautiful of altars, he said, is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thankfing God.
A translation in verse . . . seems to me something absurd, impossible.
Every idea must have a visible enfolding.
Peace is the virtue of civilization. War is its crime.
Progress is the life-style of man.