One Usually Thinks People To Be More

Were The Eye Not Of The Sun, How Could We Behold The Light? If God's Might And Ours Were Not As One, How Could His Work Enchant Our Sight?

Our Hands We Open Of Our Own Free Will, And The Good Flies, Which We Can Never Recall.

A Correct Answer Is Like An Affectionate Kiss.

Hope Is The Second Soul Of The Unhappy.

Nothing Is More Consonant With Nature Than That She Puts Into Operation In The Smallest Detail That Which She Intends As A Whole.