A Scholar Knows No Boredom.

Sorrows Are Like Thunderclouds, In The Distance They Look Black, Over Our Heads Scarcely Gray.

Man's Feelings Are Always Purest And Most Glowing In The Hour Of Meeting And Of Farewell.

Humanity Is Never So Beautiful As When Praying For Forgiveness, Or Else Forgiving Another.

A Variety Of Nothing Is Superior To A Monotony Of Something.

A Woman Who Could Always Love Would Never Grow Old; And The Love Of Mother And Wife Would Often Give Or Preserve Many Charms If It Were Not Too Often Combined With Parental And Conjugal Anger. There Remains In The Face Of Women Who Are Naturally Serene And Peaceful, And Of Those Rendered So By Religion, An After-spring, And Later An After-summer, The Reflex Of Their Most Beautiful Bloom.