A Flow Of Words Is A Sure

Nothing Is Unimportant To A Man Plunged In Despair. He Is As Credulous As A Criminal Sentenced To Death Who Listens To A Lunatic Raving To Him About How He Can Escape Through The Keyhole.

How Did You Get Back?' Asked Vautrin. 'i Walked,' Replied Eugene. 'i Wouldn't Like Half-pleasures, Myself,' Observed The Tempter. 'i'd Want To Go There In My Own Carriage, Have My Own Box, And Come Back In Comfort. All Or Nothing, That's My Motto.' 'and A Very Good One,' Said Madame Vauquer.

Society Proceeds Like The Ocean. After A Disaster, It Resume Its Wonted Level And Rhythms; Its Devouring Interests Efface All Traces Of Damage.

Our Most Bitter Enemies Are Our Own Kith And Kin. Kings Have No Brothers, No Sons, No Mother!

Physically, A Man Is A Man For A Much Longer Time Than A Woman Is A Woman.