Let us say it now: to be blind and to be loved, is indeed, upon this earth where nothing is complete, one of the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness.

To rise from error to truth is rare and beautiful.

Liberation is not deliverance.

There is a material advancement; we desire it. There is, also, a moral grandeur; we hold fast to it.

Give to a being the useless, and deprive him of the needful, and you have the gamin.

We are not loved by our friends for what we are; rather, we are loved in spite of what we are.

The learned man knows that he is ignorant.