Melancholy is the pleasure of being sad.

I didn't believe it could be so monstrous. It's wrong to be so absorbed in divine law as not to perceive human law. Death belongs to God alone. By what right do men tough that unknown thing?

...Though we chisel away as best we can at the mysterious block from which our life is made, the black vein of destiny continually reappears.

Die, very good, but do not make others die. Suicides like the one which is about to take place here are sublime, but suicide is restricted, and does not allow of extension; and so soon as it affects your neighbors, suicide becomes murder.

Our acts make or mar us, we are the children of our own deeds.

O youth! thou often tearest thy wings against the thorns of voluptuousness.

The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.