Those who are absent, by its means become present; it [mail] is the consolation of life.
Indeed, history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes.
Love is a cloth which imagination embroiders.
Wherever my travels may lead, paradise is where I am.
Men who have seen life and death... as an unbroken continuum, the swinging pendulum, have been able to move as freely into death as they walked through life. Socrates went to the grave almost perplexed by his companions' tears.
It is fancy rather than taste which produces so many new fashions