They Say Love Is Blindness Of Heart;

The Most Beautiful Of Altars, He Said, Is The Soul Of An Unhappy Creature Consoled And Thankfing God.

Slaves Would Be Tyrants Were The Chance Theirs.

Separated Lovers Cheat Absence By A Thousand Fancies Which Have Their Own Reality. They Are Prevented From Seeing One Another And They Cannot Write; Nevertheless They Find Countless Mysterious Ways Of Corresponding, By Sending Each Other The Song Of Birds, The Scent Of Flowers, The Laughter Of Children.

Now Life Has Killed The Dream I Dreamed.

It Is Not Enough To Be Happy, One Must Be Content.