One May Demand Of Me That I

L'homme Est Ne Pour La Socie Te ; Se Parez-le, Isolez-le, Ses Ide Es Se De Suniront, Son Caracte' Re Se Tournera, Mille Affections Ridicules S'e Le' Veront Dans Son Coeur; Des 274 Pense Es Extravagantes Germeront Dans Son Esprit, Comme Les Ronces Dans Une Terre Sauvage. Man Is Born To Live In Society: Separate Him, Isolate Him, And His Ideas Disintegrate, His Character Changes, A Thousand Ridiculous Affectations Rise Up In His Heart; Extreme Thoughts Take Hold In His Mind, Like The Brambles In A Wild Field.

Gratitude Is A Burden, And Every Burden Is Made To Be Shaken Off.

When Shall We See Poets Born? After A Time Of Disasters And Great Misfortunes, When Harrowed Nations Begin To Breathe Again. And Then, Shaken By The Terror Of Such Spectacles, Imaginations Will Paint Things Entirely Strange To Those Who Have Not Witnessed Them.

I Like Better For One To Say Some Foolish Thing Upon Important Matters Than To Be Silent. That Becomes The Subject Of Discussion And Dispute, And The Truth Is Discovered.

It Is Not Human Nature We Should Accuse But The Despicable Conventions That Pervert It.