We do not comprehend everything, but we insult nothing.

A language does not become fixed. The human intellect is always on the march, or, if you prefer, in movement, and languages with it.

Great grief is a divine and terrible radiance which transfigures the wretched.

Love is like a tree, it grows of its own accord, it puts down deep roots into our whole being.

Jesus wept; Voltaire smiled. From that divine tear and from that human smile is derived the grace of present civilization.

One believes others will do what he will do to himself.

I am not in the world to care for my life, but for souls.