Great blunders are often made, like large ropes, of a multitude of fibres.
Sacrificing the earth for paradise is giving up the substance for the shadow.
Her soul trembled on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.
When liberty returns, I will return.
The wise man does not grow old, but ripens.
It is the end. But of what? The end of France? No. The end of kings? Yes.