The Finest Souls Are Those That Have

The Most Unhappy And Frail Creatures Are Men And Yet They Are The Proudest.

If Ordinary People Complain That I Speak Too Much Of Myself, I Complain That They Do Not Even Think Of Themselves.

He Loves Little Who Loves By Rule.

The Ceaseless Labour Of Your Life Is To Build The House Of Death.

Authors Communicate With The People By Some Special Extrinsic Mark; I Am The First To Do So By My Entire Being, As Michel De Montaigne.