Are Not Poets Men Who Fulfill Their

Nowhere But In France Are People So Strictly Observant Of Great Matters And So Disdainfully Indulgent About Small Ones.

We Do Not Attach Ourselves Lastingly To Anything That Has Not Cost Us Care, Labor Or Longing.

There Are No Principles; There Are Only Events. There Is No Good And Bad, There Are Only Circumstances.

The Response Man Has The Greatest Difficulty In Tolerating Is Pity, Especially When He Warrants It. Hatred Is A Tonic, It Makes One Live, It Inspires Vengeance, But Pity Kills, It Makes Our Weakness Weaker.

The Greater A Man's Talents, The More Marked His Idiosyncracies. Yet In The Provinces Originality Is Considered Perilously Close To Lunacy.