One likes people much better when they're battered down by a prodigious siege of misfortune than when they triumph.

Human beings have neither kindness, nor faith, nor charity beyond what serves to increase the pleasure of the moment.

What a comfort is friendship in this world.

To let oneself be carried on passively is unthinkable.

I feel my brains, like a pear, to see if it's ripe; it will be exquisite by September.

For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn.

Would there be trees if we didn't see them?