I should like to lie at your feet and die in your arms.

The progress of rivers to the ocean is not so rapid as that of man to error.

One feels like crawling on all fours after reading your work.

It is love; love, the comfort of the human species, the preserver of the universe, the soul of all sentient beings, love, tender love.

It is with books as with the fires of our grates, everybody borrows a light from his neighbor to kindle his own, which in turn is communicated to others, and each partakes of all.

Man is not born wicked; he becomes so, as he becomes sick.

It is not inequality which is the real misfortune, it is dependence.