In A World Of Hunchbacks, A Fine

Holding This Book In Your Hand, Sinking Back In Your Soft Armchair, You Will Say To Yourself: Perhaps It Will Amuse Me. And After You Have Read This Story Of Great Misfortunes, You Will No Doubt Dine Well, Blaming The Author For Your Own Insensitivity, Accusing Him Of Wild Exaggeration And Flights Of Fancy. But Rest Assured: This Tragedy Is Not A Fiction. All Is True.

Love Passes Quickly, And Passes Like A Street Arab, Anxious To Mark His Way With Mischief.

Poles Offer A Mobility Like That Of The Wind That Blows Over The Immense Plains And Marches Of Poland. Show A Pole A Precipice, And He Will Leap Headlong Over It.

Nothing Is As Heady As The Wine Of Misfortune.

It Is Always Assumed By The Empty-headed, Who Chatter About Themselves For Want Of Something Better, That People Who Do Not Discuss Their Affairs Openly Must Have Something To Hide.