And Do You Know Monsieur Marius? I

He Never Went Out Without A Book Under His Arm, And He Often Came Back With Two.

Man Does Not Understand Nor Accept Immortality Except On Condition Of Self-remembrance.

In Every Cradle Decked With Rosy Wreath Lurk Germs Of Death.

Her Soul Trembled On Her Lips Like A Drop Of Dew On A Flower.

Scepticism, That Dry Caries Of The Intelligence.