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In This Way, His Unhappy Soul Struggled With Its Anguish. Eighteen Hundred Years Before This Unfortunate Man, The Mysterious Being, In Whom All The Sanctities And All The Sufferings Of Humanity Come Together, He Too, While The Olive Trees Trembled In The Fierce Breath Of The Infinite, Had Brushed Away The Fearful Cup That Appeared Before Him, Streaming With Shadow And Running Over With Darkness, In The Star-filled Depths. (pg. 236)

-Victor Hugo

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In This Way, His

Victor Hugo

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In This Way, His Unhappy Soul Struggled With Its Anguish. Eighteen Hundred Years Before This Unfortunate Man, The Mysterious Being, In Whom All The Sanctities And All The Sufferings Of Humanity Come Together, He Too, While The Olive Trees Trembled In The Fierce Breath Of The Infinite, Had Brushed Away The Fearful Cup That Appeared Before Him, Streaming With Shadow And Running Over With Darkness, In The Star-filled Depths. (pg. 236)

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...mothers Are Often Fondest Of The Child Which Has Caused Them The Greatest Pain.

A Benevolent Malefactor, Merciful, Gentle, Helpful, Clement, A Convict, Returning Good For Evil, Giving Back Pardon For Hatred, Preferring Pity To Vengeance, Preferring To Ruin Himself Rather Than To Ruin His Enemy, Saving Him Who Had Smitten Him, Kneeling On The Heights Of Virtue, More Nearly Akin To An Angel Than To A Man. Javert Was Constrained To Admit To Himself That This Monster Existed. Things Could Not Go On In This Manner.

Winter Is On My Head, But Eternal Spring Is In My Heart.

Architecture Has Recorded The Great Ideas Of The Human Race. Not Only Every Religious Symbol, But Every Human Thought Has Its Page In That Vast Book.

Good Actions Are The Invisible Hinges On The Doors Of Heaven.

A Bird Sings, A Child Prattles, But It Is The Same Hymn; Hymn Indistinct, Inarticulate, But Full Of Profound Meaning.

A Poet Is A World Enclosed In A Man.

A Mother's Arms Are Made Of Tenderness And Children Sleep Soundly In Them.

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A Man Without A Woman Is Like A Pistol Without A Trigger; It Is The Woman Who Makes The Man Go Off.

He Caught Her, She Fell, He Caught Her In His Arms, He Held Her Tightly Unconscious Of What He Was Doing. He Held Her Up, Though Tottering Himself. He Felt As If His Head Were Filled With Smoke; Flashes Of Light Slipped Through His Eyelids; His Thoughts Vanished; It Seemed To Him That He Was Performing A Religious Act, And That He Was Committing A Profanation. Moreover, He Did Not Feel One Passionate Desire For This Ravishing Woman, Whose Form He Felt Against His Heart. He Was Lost In Love.

There Is One Thing Stronger Than All The Armies In The World, And That Is An Idea Whose Time As Come.

Be As A Bird Perched On A Frail Branch That She Feels Bending Beneath Her, Still She Sings Away All The Same, Knowing She Has Wings.

No Religion But Blasphemes A Little.

By Making Himself A Priest Made Himself A Demon.

Art Moves. Hence Its Civilizing Power.

The Sunshine Was Delightful, The Foliage Gently Astir, More From The Activity Of Birds Than From The Breeze. One Gallant Little Bird, Doubtless Lovelorn, Was Singing His Heart Out At The Top Of A Tall Tree.

Melancholy Is The Happiness Of Being Sad.

Pleasure And Happiness

It Is The Essence Of Truth That It Is Never Excessive. Why Should It Exaggerate? There Is That Which Should Be Destroyed And That Which Should Be Simply Illuminated And Studied. How Great Is The Force Of Benevolent And Searching Examination! We Must Not Resort To The Flame Where Only Light Is Required.

Exaggeration Is

Common Sense Is In Spite Of, Not As The Result Of Education.

Daring Is The Price Of Progress. All Splendid Conquests Are The Prize Of Boldness, More Or Less.

The Cruel Of Heart Have Their Own Black Happiness.

Everything Changes. The Only Thing That Remains Immovable Across The Centuries And Fixes The Character Of A People Is Cooking.

Life Is The Flower For Which Love Is The Honey.

Let Us Have Compassion For Those Under Chastisement. Alas, Who Are We Ourselves? Who Am I And Who Are You? Whence Do We Come And Is It Quite Certain That We Did Nothing Before We Were Born? This Earth Is Not Without Some Resemblance To A Gaol. Who Knows But That Man Is A Victim Of Divine Justice? Look Closely At Life. It Is So Constituted That One Senses Punishment Everywhere.

Social Prosperity Means Man Happy, The Citizen Free, The Nation Great.

The Author Creates A Book And The People Accept Or Not Accept It. The Creator Of A Book Is An Author And The Creator Of It`s Fate Are People.

Without Vanity, Without Coquetry, Without Curiosity, In A Word, Without The Fall, Woman Would Not Be Woman. Much Of Her Grace Is In Her Frailty.

The Fact Is That The Beautiful, Humanly Speaking, Is Merely Form Considered In Its Simplest Aspect, In Its Most Perfect Symmetry, In Its Most Entire Harmony With Our Make-up. Thus The Ensemble That It Offers Us Is Always Complete, But Restricted Like Ourselves. What We Call The Ugly, On The Contrary, Is A Detail Of A Great Whole Which Eludes Us, And Which Is In Harmony, Not With Man But With All Creation. That Is Why It Constantly Presents Itself To Us In New But Incomplete Aspects.

With A Tiny Bit Of Effort, The Nettle Would Be Useful; If You Neglect It, It Becomes A Pest. So Then We Kill It. How Many Men Are Like Nettles My Friends, There Is No Such Thing As A Weed And No Such Thing As A Bad Man. There Are Only Bad Cultivators.

If You Would Civilize A Man, Begin With His Grandmother.

Now Life Has Killed The Dream I Dreamed.

No Doubt It Was Necessary To Civilize Man In Relation To Man. That Work Is Already Advanced And Is Making Progress Every Day. But Man Must Be Civilized Also In Relation To Nature.

And So, Being In Heaven, It Was Easy For Him To Lose Sight Of Earth.

The Ideal And The Beautiful Are Identical; The Ideal Corresponds To The Idea, And Beauty To Form; Hence Idea And Substance Are Cognate.

The Miserable's Name Is Man; He Is Agonizing In All Climes, And He Is Groaning In All Languages.

The Soul Does Not Give Itself Up To Despair Until It Has Exhausted All Illusions.

I Only Take A Half Share In The Civil War; I Am Willing To Die, I Am Not Willing To Kill.

When Liberty Returns, I Will Return.

Desiring Always To Be In Mourning, He Clothed Himself With Night.

Love Resembles A Tree: It Bends Under Its Own Weight, Deeply Rooted In Our Being And Sometimes Turns Green In The Ruins Of A Heart.

Nothing Is Really Small; Whoever Is Open To The Deep Penetration Of Nature Knows This.

Greater Than The Tread Of Mighty Armies Is An Idea Whose Time Has Come.

Prayer Is An August Avowal Of Ignorance.

Give To A Being The Useless, And Deprive Him Of The Needful, And You Have The Gamin.

These Are True Felicities. No Joy Beyond These Joys. Love Is The Only Ecstasy, Everything Else Weeps

Nothing Awakens Reminiscence Like An Aroma.

His Universal Compassion Was Due Less To Natural Instinct, Than To A Profound Conviction, A Sum Of Thoughts That In The Course Of Living Had Filtered Through To His Heart: For In The Nature Of Man, As In Rock, There May Be Channels Hollowed By The Dropping Of Water, And These Can Never Be Destroyed.

It Is Ourselves We Have To Fear. Prejudice Is The Real Robber, And Vice The Real Murderer.

Happiness Lies For Those Who Cry, Those Who Hurt, Those Who Have Searched, And Those Who Have Tried For Only They Can Appreciate The Importance Of People Who Have Touched Their Lives.

There Shall Be No Slavery Of The Mind.

A Doctor’s Door Should Never Be Closed, A Priest's Door Should Always Be Open.

We Must Never Fear Robbers Or Murderers. They Are Dangers From Outside, Small Dangers. It Is Ourselves We Have To Fear. Prejudice Is The Real Robber, Vice The Real Murderer. Why Should We Be Troubled By A Threat To Our Person Or Our Pocket? What We Have To Beware Of Is The Threat To Our Souls'.

We Say And Exclaim Within Ourselves Without Breaking Silence, In A Tumult Where Everything Speaks Except Our Mouths. The Realities Of The Soul Are None The Less Real For Being Invisible And Impalpable.

I Exist," Murmurs Someone Whose Name Is Everyone. "i'm Young And In Love; I Am Old And I Want Rest; I Work, I Prosper, I Do Good Business, I Have Houses To Rent, Money In State Securities; I Am Happy, I Have Wife And Children; I Like All These Things And I Want To Go On Living, So Leave Me Alone."... There Are Moments When All This Casts A Deep Chill On The Large-minded Pioneers Of The Human Race.

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In The Domain Of Art There Is No Light Without Heat.

To Rove About, Musing, That Is To Say Loitering, Is, For A Philosopher, A Good Way Of Spending Time.

The Drama Is Complete Poetry. The Ode And The Epic Contain It Only In Germ; It Contains Both Of Them In A State Of High Development, And Epitomizes Both.

A Faith Is A Necessity To A Man. Woe To Him Who Believes In Nothing.

You Who Suffer Because You Love, Love Still More. To Die Of Love, Is To Live By It.

The Thirst For The Infinite Proves Infinity.

As For The Bishop, The Sight Of The Guillotine Was A Great Shock To Him, From Which He Recovered Only Slowly.

Excitement Is Not Enjoyment: In Calmness Lies True Pleasure. The Most Precious Wines Are Sipped, Not Bolted At A Swallow.

A War Between Europeans Is A Civil War.

Reason Is Intelligence Taking Exercise. Imagination Is Intelligence With An Erection.

Spira, Spera. (breathe, Hope)

If I Speak, I Am Condemned. If I Stay Silent, I Am Damned!

A Library Implies An Act Of Faith.

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To Love Or Have Loved, That Is Enough. Ask Nothing Further. There Is No Other Pearl To Be Found In The Dark Folds Of Life.

The Human Soul Has Still Greater Need Of The Ideal Than Of The Real. It Is By The Real That We Exist; It Is By The Ideal That We Live.

Let Us Sacrifice One Day To Gain Perhaps A Whole Life.

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What A Gloomy Thing, Not To Know The Address Of One's Soul.

All Animals Are To Be Found In Men And Each Of Theme Exists In Some Man, Sometimes Several At The Time.

Paris Is A Sum Total. Paris Is The Ceiling Of The Human Race. All This Prodigious City Is An Epitome Of Dead And Living Manners And Customs. He Who Sees Paris, Seems To See All History Through With The Sky And Constellations In The Intervals.

A Thousand Men Enslaved Fear One Beast Free.

To Breathe Paris Is To Preserve One's Soul.

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Man Does Not Understand Nor Accept Immortality Except On Condition Of Self-remembrance.

To Rise At Six, To Dine At Ten, To Sup At Six, To Sleep At Ten, Makes A Man Live For Ten Times Ten.

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The Wind Of Revolutions Is Not Tractable.

The Saints Were His Friends, And Blessed Him; The Monsters Were His Friends, And Guarded Him.

But Alas, If I Have Not Maintained My Victory, It Is God's Fault For Not Making Man And The Devil Of Equal Strength.

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There Is In Every Village A Torch - The Teacher; And An Extinguisher - The Priest.

By Putting Forward The Hands Of The Clock You Shall Not Advance The Hour.

True Or False, That Which Is Said Of Men Often Occupies As Important A Place In Their Lives, And Above All In Their Destinies, As That Which They Do.

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In The Twentieth Century War Will Be Dead, The Scaffold Will Be Dead, Hatred Will Be Dead, Frontier Boundaries Will Be Dead, Dogmas Will Be Dead; Man Will Live. He Will Possess Something Higher Than All These-a Great Country, The Whole Earth, And A Great Hope, The Whole Heaven.

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Religions Do A Useful Thing: They Narrow God To The Limits Of Man. Philosophy Replies By Doing A Necessary Thing: It Elevates Man To The Plane Of God.

Human Intelligence Discovered A Way Of Perpetuating Itself, One Not Only More Durable And More Resistant Than Architecture, But Also Simpler And Easier. Architecture Was Dethroned. The Stone Letters Of Orpheus Gave Way To The Lead Letters Of Gutenburg. The Book Will Kill The Edifice.

Women Play With Their Beauty As Children Do With Their Knives. They Wound Themselves With It.

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One Believes Others Will Do What He Will Do To Himself.

"animals Are Happy," Said The Queen. "they Run No Risk Of Going To Hell." "they Are There Already," Replied Josiana.

When We Are At The End Of Life, To Die Means To Go Away; When We Are At The Beginning, To Go Away Means To Die.

Progress Is The Stride Of God.

If She Gives Me All Her Time It Is Because I Have All Her Heart.

One Can No More Keep The Mind From Returning To An Idea Than The Sea From Returning To A Shore. For A Sailor, This Is Called The Tide; In The Case Of The Guilty It Is Called Remorse. God Stirs Up The Soul As Well As The Ocean.

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Love Is The Only Future God Offers.

Whatever Causes Night In Our Souls May Leave Stars. Cimourdain Was Full Of Virtues And Truth, But They Shine Out Of A Dark Background.

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Positive Thinking

To Destroy Abuses Is Not Enough; Habits Must Also Be Changed. The Windmill Has Gone, But The Wind Is Still There." ~old Man G--- To Monseigneur Bienvenu Myriel

Genius: The Superhuman In Man.

This First Glance Of A Soul Which Does Not Yet Know Itself Is Like Dawn In The Heavens; It Is The Awakening Of Something Radiant And Unknown.

One Only Needs To See A Smile In A White Crape Bonnet In Order To Enter The Palace Of Dreams.

He Would Give All Of His Clothes To His Servant, Admonishing Him Not To Return Them Until He Had Completed His Day's Work.

Between The Government Which Does Evil And The People Who Accept It - There Is A Certain Shameful Solidarity.

Her Soul Trembled On Her Lips Like A Drop Of Dew On A Flower.

Genius Is A Promontory Jutting Out Into The Infinite.

The Great Acts Of Love Are Done By Those Who Are Habitually Performing Small Acts Of Kindness.

But When Ill Indeed, Even Dismissing The Doctor Don't Always Succeed.

We Are All Under Sentence Of Death, But With A Sort Of Indefinite Reprieve.

Can Human Nature Ever Be Wholly And Radically Transformed? Can The Man Whom God Made Good Be Made Wicked By Man? Can The Soul Be Reshaped In Its Entirety By Destiny And Made Evil Because Destiny Is Evil? Can The Heart Become Misshapen And Afflicted With Ugly, Incurable Deformities Under Disproportionate Misfortune, Like A Spinal Column Bent Beneath A Too Low Roof?

Every Bird Which Flies Has The Thread Of The Infinite In Its Claw.

Despotism Is A Long Crime.

Thought Is The Work Of The Intellect, Reverie Is Its Self-indulgence. To Substitute Day-dreaming For Thought Is To Confuse A Poison With A Source Of Nourishment.

The Guillotine Is The Ultimate Expression Of Law, And Its Name Is Vengeance; It Is Not Neutral, Nor Does It Allow Us To Remain Neutral.

For Prying Into Any Human Affairs, Non Are Equal To Those Whom It Does Not Concern.

It Is The Peculiarity Of Grief To Bring Out The Childish Side Of Man.

I'd Like A Drink. I Desire To Forget Life. Life Is A Hideous Invention By Somebody I Don't Know. It Doesn't Last, And It's Good For Nothing. You Break Your Neck Simply Living.

To Think Of Shadows Is A Serious Thing.

Hypocrisy Is Nothing, In Fact, But A Horrible Hopefulness.

Let The One Fight For His Flag, And The Other For His Ideal, And Let Them Both Imagine That They Are Fighting For The Country; The Strife Will Be Colossal.

To Live A Life Which Is A Perpetual Falsehood Is To Suffer Unknown Tortures.

The Poor Man Shuddered, Overflowed With An Angelic Joy; He Declared In His Transport That This Would Last Through Life; He Said To Himself That He Really Had Not Suffered Enough To Deserve Such Radiant Happiness, And He Thanked God, In The Depths Of His Soul, For Having Permitted That He, A Miserable Man, Should Be So Loved By This Innocent Being.

It Is By Suffering That Human Beings Become Angels.

A Day Will Come When Markets, Open To Trade, And Minds, Open To Ideas, Will Become The Sole Battlefield.

We Teachers Make The Road, Others Will Make The Journey.

All The Human And Animal Manure Which The World Wastes, If Returned To The Land, Instead Of Being Thrown Into The Sea, Would Suffice To Nourish The World.

The Tomb Is Not A Blind Alley: It Is A Thoroughfare. It Closes On The Twilight. It Opens On The Dawn.

There Is Something More Terrible Than A Hell Of Suffering--a Hell Of Boredom.

You Are Adorable, Mademoiselle. I Study Your Feet With The Microscope And Your Soul With The Telescope.

A Day Will Come When A Cannon Will Be Exhibited In Museums, Just As Instruments Of Torture Are Now, And The People Will Be Astonished That Such A Thing Could Have Been.

Wide Horizons Lead The Soul To Broad Ideas; Circumscribed Horizons Engender Narrow Ideas; This Sometimes Condemns Great Hearts To Become Small Minded.broad Ideas Hated By Narrow Ideas,-this Is The Very Struggle Of Progress.

The Paradise Of The Rich Is Made Out Of The Hell Of The Poor.

There Is A Determined Though Unseen Bravery That Defends Itself Foot By Foot In The Darkness Against The Fatal Invasions Of Necessity And Dishonesty. Noble And Mysterious Triumphs That No Eye Sees, And No Fame Rewards, And No Flourish Of Triumph Salutes. Life, Misfortunes, Isolation, Abandonment, Poverty, Are Battlefields That Have Their Heroes; Obscure Heroes, Sometimes Greater Than The Illustrious Heroes.

For There Are Many Great Deeds Done In The Small Struggles Of Life.

Loving Is Almost A Substitute For Thinking. Love Is A Burning Forgetfulness Of All Other Things. How Shall We Ask Passion To Be Logical?

The Peasants Of The Asturias Believe That In Every Litter Of Wolves There Is One Pup That Is Killed By The Mother For Fear That On Growing Up It Would Devour The Other Little Ones.

I Repeat, Whether We Be Italians Or Frenchmen, Misery Concerns Us All.

It Is An Unpleasant Thing To Go To Bed Without Supper, It Is A Still Less Pleasant Thing Not To Sup And Not To Know Where One Is To Sleep.

Great Griefs Exhaust. They Discourage Us With Life. The Man Into Whom They Enter Feels Something Taken From Him. In Youth, Their Visit Is Sad; Later On, It Is Ominous.

There Is Nothing Like A Dream To Create The Future.

Who Can Be Sure That Jean Valjean Had Not Been On The Verge Of Losing Heart And Giving Up The Struggle? In Loving He Recovered His Strength. But The Truth Is That He Was No Less Vulnerable Than Cosette. He Protected Her And She Sustained Him. Thanks To Him She Could Go Forward Into Life, And Thanks To Her He Could Continue Virtous. He Was The Child's Support And She His Mainstay. Sublime, Unfathomable Marvel Of The Balance Of Destiny!

Be Like The Bird Who, Pausing In Her Flight Awhile On Boughs Too Slight, Feels Them Give Way Beneath Her, And Yet Sings, Knowing She Hath Wings.

If You Are Leaving That Sorrowful Place With Hate And Anger Against Men, You Are Worthy Of Compassion; If You Leave It With Good Will, Gentleness And Peace, You Are Better Than Any Of Us.

Word Which The Finger Of God Has Written On The Brow Of Every Man — Hope!

Nature, Like A Kind And Smiling Mother, Lends Herself To Our Dreams And Cherishes Our Fancies.

Winter Changes Into Stone The Water Of Heaven And The Heart Of Man.

Emergencies Have Always Been Necessary To Progress. It Was Darkness Which Produced The Lamp. It Was Fog That Produced The Compass. It Was Hunger That Drove Us To Exploration. And It Took A Depression To Teach Us The Real Value Of A Job.

Inanimate Objects Sometimes Appear Endowed With A Strange Power Of Sight. A Statue Notices, A Tower Watches, The Face Of An Edifice Contemplates.

As We Have Said, Robust Souls Are Sometimes Almost, But Not Entirely, Overthrown By Strokes Of Misfortune....despair Has Steps Leading Upward. From Total Depression We Rise To Despondency, From Despondency To Affliction, From Affliction To Melancholy. Melancholy Is A Twilight State In Which Suffering Transmutes Into A Somber Joy....melancholy Is The Enjoyment Of Being Sad.

Because A Fact Seems Strange To You, You Conclude That It Is Not One. ... All Science, However, Commences By Being Strange. Science Is Successive. It Goes From One Wonder To Another. It Mounts By A Ladder. The Science Of To-day Would Seem Extravagant To The Science Of A Former Time. Ptolemy Would Believe Newton Mad.

A Bit Of Mould Is A Pleiad Of Flowers; A Nebula Is An Ant-hill Of Stars.

War Can Only Be Qualified By Its Object, And There Is Neither Foreign War Nor Civil War, There Is Only Just Or Unjust War.

Astronomy, That Micography Of Heaven, Is The Most Magnificent Of The Sciences. ... Astronomy Has Its Clear Side And Its Luminous Side; On Its Clear Side It Is Tinctured With Algebra, On Its Luminous Side With Poetry.

People Generally Will Soon Understand That Writers Should Be Judged, Not According To Rules And Species, Which Are Contrary To Nature And Art, But According To The Immutable Principles Of The Art Of Composition, And The Special Laws Of Their Individual Temperaments.

Oh! Everything I Loved!

When A Man Is Out Of Sight, It Is Not Too Long Before He Is Out Of Mind.

I Dislike Wealth And Prosperity, Especially That Of Other Men.

The Most Terrible Of Motives And The Most Unanswerable Of Responses: Because.

What A Grand Thing, To Be Loved! What A Grander Thing Still, To Love!

Nothing Is More Imminent Than The Impossible . . . What We Must Always Foresee Is The Unforeseen.

Joy Is The Reflex Of Terror.

At The Moment When Her Eyes Closed, When All Feeling Vanished In Her, She Thought That She Felt A Touch Of Fire Imprinted On Her Lips, A Kiss More Burning Than The Red-hot Iron Of The Executioner.

To Die Is Nothing; But It Is Terrible Not To Live.

A House Is Built Of Logs And Stone, Of Tiles And Posts And Piers; A Home Is Built Of Loving Deeds That Stand A Thousand Years.

The Real, Native South Seas Food Is Lousy. You Can't Eat It.

Pain Is As Diverse As Man. One Suffers As One Can.

He Never Went Out Without A Book Under His Arm, And He Often Came Back With Two.

The Convent Is Supreme Egotism Resulting In Supreme Self-denial.

Seeing So Much Poverty Everywhere Makes Me Think That God Is Not Rich. He Gives The Appearance Of It, But I Suspect Some Financial Difficulties.

Tobacco Is The Plant That Converts Thoughts Into Dreams.

The Memory Of An Absent Person Shines In The Deepest Recesses Of The Heart, Shining The More Brightly The More Wholly Its Object Has Vanished: A Light On The Horizon Of The Despairing, Darkened Spirit; A Star Gleaming In Our Inward Night.

The Man Is Placed Where The Earth Ends, The Woman, Where The Heaven Starts.

Do You Hear The People Sing? Singing A Song Of Angry Men

...but Listen, There Will Be More Joy In Heaven Over The Tears Of A Repentant Sinner Than Over The White Robes Of A Hundred Just Men.

I Was Dying When You Came.

To Gaze Into The Depths Of The Sea Is, In The Imagination, Like Beholding The Vast Unknown, And From Its Most Terrible Point Of View. The Submarine Gulf Is Analogous To The Realm Of Night And Dreams. There Also Is Sleep, Unconsciousness, Or At Least Apparent Unconsciousness, Of Creation. There In The Awful Silence And Darkness, The Rude First Forms Of Life, Phantomlike, Demoniacal, Pursue Their Horrible Instincts.

The Guilty One Is Not He Who Commits The Sin, But He Who Causes The Darkness.

The Mind's Eye Can Nowhere Find Anything More Dazzling Or More Dark Than In Man; It Can Fix Itself Upon Nothing Which Is More Awful, More Complex, More Mysterious, Or More Infinite. There Is One Spectacle Grander Than The Sea, That Is The Sky; There Is One Spectacle Grander Than The Sky, That Is The Interior Of The Soul.

The Quantity Of Civilization Is Measured By The Quality Of Imagination.

Every Good Quality Runs Into A Defect; Economy Borders On Avarice, The Generous Are Not Far From The Prodigal, The Brave Man Is Close To The Bully; He Who Is Very Pious Is Slightly Sanctimonious; There Are Just As Many Vices To Virtue As There Are Holes In The Mantle Of Diogenes.

We Do Not Comprehend Everything, But We Insult Nothing.

Ecclesiastes Names Thee Almighty, The Maccabees Name Thee Creator, The Epistle To The Ephesians Names Thee Liberty, Baruch Names Thee Immensity, The Psalms Name Thee Wisdom And Truth, John Names Thee Light, The Book Of Kings Names Thee Lord, Exodus Names Thee Providence, Leviticus Sanctity, Esdras Justice, Creation Names Thee God, Man Names Thee Father; But Solomon Names Thee Compassion, Which Is The Most Beautiful Of All Thy Names.

A Republic May Be Called The Climate Of Civilization.

Sorrow Is A Fruit. God Does Not Make It Grow On Limbs Too Weak To Bear It.

What Would Be Ugly In A Garden Constitutes Beauty In A Mountain.

A Man Is Not Idle Because He Is Absorbed In Thought. There Is A Visible Labor And There Is An Invisible Labor.

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