That is the explanation of war, an outrage by humanity upon humanity in despite of humanity.

To rove about, musing, that is to say loitering, is, for a philosopher, a good way of spending time, especially in that kind of mock rurality, ugly but odd, and partaking of two natures, which surrounds certain large cities, particularly Paris.

And if it happened to be a Christmas-night when the great bell seemed to rattle in its throat as it called the faithful to the midnight mass, there was such an indescribable air of life spread over the sombre facade that the great door-way looked as if it were swallowing the entire crowd, and the rose-window staring at them.

One only needs to see a smile in a white crape bonnet in order to enter the palace of dreams.

Without at all invalidating what we have just said, we believe that a perpetual remembrance of the tomb is proper for the living. On this point, the priest and the philosopher agree: We must die.

The wise man does not grow old, but ripens.

And then, strange to say, the first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; in a girl, it is boldness.