No One Makes A Revolution By Himself.

You Can Bind My Body, Tie My Hands, Govern My Actions: You Are The Strongest, And Society Adds To Your Power; But With My Will, Sir, You Can Do Nothing.

The Masses Are Still Ungrateful Or Ignorant. They Prefer Murder, Poisonings, And Crimes Generally To A Literature Possessed Of Style And Feeling.

A Man Is Not A Wall, Whose Stones Are Crushed Upon The Road; Or A Pipe, Whose Fragments Are Thrown Away At A Street Corner. The Fragments Of An Intellect Are Always Good.

Gossiping Is The Plague Of Little Towns.

You See What Stupid Folk My Publishers Are; But They Are All Alike.