The Perfection Of Conversational Intercourse Is When

I Am Persuaded There Is No Such Thing After All As A Perfect Enjoyment Of Solitude; For The More Delicious The Solitude The More One Wants A Companion.

"books ... Books, ..." He Exclaims. It Is Those That Teach Us To Refine On Our Pleasures When Young, And Which, Having So Taught Us, Enable Us To Recall Them With Satisfaction When Old.

Bread, Milk And Butter Are Of Venerable Antiquity. They Taste Of The Morning Of The World.

The Last Excessive Feelings Of Delight Are Always Grave.

A Pleasure So Exquisite As Almost To Amount To Pain.