The National Budget Is Not A Safe-deposit

In A World Of Hunchbacks, A Fine Figure Becomes A Monstrosity.

Hatred Is The Vice Of Narrow Souls; They Feed It With All Their Littleness, And Make It The Pretext Of Base Tyrannies.

What Moralists Describe As The Mysteries Of The Human Heart Are Solely The Deceiving Thoughts, The Spontaneous Impulses Of Self-regard. The Sudden Changes In Character, About Which So Much Has Been Said, Are Instinctive Calculations For The Furtherance Of Our Own Pleasures. Seeing Himself Now In His Fine Clothes, His New Gloves And Shoes, Eugène De Rastignac Forgot His Noble Resolve. Youth, When It Swerves Toward Wrong, Dares Not Look In The Mirror Of Conscience; Maturity Has Already Seen Itself There. That Is The Whole Difference Between The Two Phases Of Life.

Finance, Like Time, Devours Its Own Children.

The World Will Avenge Itself Upon All Happiness In Which It Has No Share.