I Am Not Proud, But I Am

You Who Weep For Pleasures Fled, While Dragging On A Life Of Care, All Your Woes Will Melt In Air, If To God Your Tears Are Shed, You Who Weap!

Nothing Makes Time Pass Or Shortens The Way Like A Thought That Absorbs In Itself All The Faculties Of The One Who Is Thinking. External Existence Is Then Like A Sleep Of Which This Thought Is The Dream. Under Its Influence, Time Has No More Measure, Space Has No More Distance.

I Do Not Cling To Life Sufficiently To Fear Death.

We Are Never Quits With Those Who Oblige Us," Was Dantes' Reply; "for When We Do Not Owe Them Money, We Owe Them Gratitude.

Why Do You Mention My Father?' Screamed He; 'why Do You Mingle A Recollection Of Him With The Affairs Of Today?' Because I Am He Who Saved Your Father's Life When He Wished To Destroy Himself, As You Do Today-because I Am The Man Who Sent The Purse To Your Young Sister, And The Paraon To Old Morrel-because I Am The Edmond Dantes Who Nursed You, A Child, On My Knees.