Count Art By Gold, And It Fetters

Woman Already Controls By Not Seeming To Do So. Talk No More Of Her Rights.

One Must Pray First, But Afterwards One Must Help Oneself. God Does Not Care For Cowards.

Fame! It Is The Flower Of A Day, That Dies When The Next Sun Rises.

When You Talk Yourself, You Think How Witty, How Original, How Acute You Are; But When Another Does So, You Are Very Apt To Think Only - What A Crib From Rochefoucauld!

When One Has Not Father, Or Mother, Or Brother, And All One's Friends Have Barely Bread Enough For Themselves, Life Cannot Be Very Easy, Nor Its Crusts Very Many At Any Time.