We Rarely Repent Of Speaking Little, But

What Greater Weakness Can There Be Than Not To Know What Is The Source Of One's Being, Of One's Life, Of One's Senses, Of One's Knowledge, And What Is To Be Their End? What Can Be More Deeply Disheartening Than To Wonder Whether One's Soul Is, Perhaps, A Material Thing, Like A Stone Or A Reptile, Corruptible Like These Base Creatures? Is There Not More Strength And Greatness Of Mind In Admitting The Idea Of A Being Superior To All Other Beings, Who Has Made Them All And To Whom All Owe Their Existence; Of A Being Supremely Perfect, Who Is Pure, Who Had No Beginning And Can Have No Ending, Of Whom Our Soul Is The Image And, So To Speak, A Portion, Being A Spiritual And Immortal Thing?

Men Are The Cause Of Women Not Loving One Another. [fr., Les Hommes Sont La Cause Que Les Femmes Ne S'aiment Point.]

Eloquence Is To The Sublime What The Whole Is To The Part.

One Must Laugh Before One Is Happy, Or One May Die Without Ever Laughing At All.

There Exist Some Evils So Terrible And Some Misfortunes So Horrible That We Dare Not Think Of Them, Whilst Their Very Aspect Makes Us Shudder; But If They Happen To Fall On Us, We Find Ourselves Stronger Than We Imagined, We Grapple With Our Ill Luck, And Behave Better Than We Expected We Should.