Our country is that spot to which our heart is bound.
I serve your Beaune to my friends, but your Volnay I keep for myself.
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.
Nothing can be more contrary to religion and the clergy than reason and common sense.
What can I hope when all is right?
Paradise was made for tender hearts; hell, for loveless hearts.