Silence,--the Applause Of Real And Durable Impressions.

Chance Often Gives Us That Which We Should Not Have Presumed To Ask.

Reading Furnishes The Mind Only With Materials Of Knowledge; It Is Thinking That Makes What We Read Ours. I Am The Fellow Citizen Of Every Being That Thinks; My Country Is Truth.

Sad Is His Lot, Who, Once At Least In His Life, Has Not Been A Poet.

The People Will Not Allow Themselves To Be Changed Into Hogs By The Circes Of Atheism. Their Souls Will Flash Indignation Against Their Transformers. A Day Will Come When They Will See That They Are Impoverished Under The Pretext Of Being Enriched; That, When They Are Robbed Of Their Souls And Of God, Both Their Titles To Liberty Are Stolen From Them.

I Am Persuaded That If The Brutes Even--if The Dog, The Horse, The Ox, The Elephant, The Bird, Could Speak, They Would Confess, That, At The Bottom Of Their Nature, Their Instincts, Their Sensations, Their Obtuse Intelligence, Assisted By Organs Less Perfect Than Ours, There Is A Clouded, Secret Sentiment Of This Existence Of A Superior And Primordial Being, From Whom All Emanates, And To Whom All Returns.