At Twenty Every One Is Republican.

Private Passions Tire And Exhaust Themselves, Public Ones Never.

Let Us Savour The Swift Delights Of The Most Beautiful Of Our Days!

What Mortal Is There, Over Whose First Joys And Happiness Does Not Break Some Storm, Dispelling With Its Icy Breath His Fanciful Illusions, And Shattering His Altar?

The More I See Of The Representatives Of The People, The More I Admire My Dogs.

Ah! Let Us Love, My Love, For Time Is Heartless, Be Happy While You May!