To make a vow for life is to make oneself a slave.
Mortals are equal; their mask differs.
To the wicked, everything serves as pretext.
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.
Let us confess it: evil strides the world.
My life is a struggle.