Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters.
Let us leave to the brain what belongs to it, and agree that the work of the men of genius is of the superhuman, the offspring of man.
Slaves would be tyrants were the chance theirs.
Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars. Cimourdain was full of virtues and truth, but they shine out of a dark background.
God created the flirt as soon as he made the fool.
A translation in verse . . . seems to me something absurd, impossible.