What I feel for you seems less of earth and more of a cloudless heaven.
The world of sleep has an existence of its own.
Every body drags its shadow, and every mind its doubt.
Pain is as diverse as man. One suffers as one can.
Paris is a sum total. Paris is the ceiling of the human race. All this prodigious city is an epitome of dead and living manners and customs. He who sees Paris, seems to see all history through with the sky and constellations in the intervals.
There is a material advancement; we desire it. There is, also, a moral grandeur; we hold fast to it.