For There Are Two Distinct Sorts Of

I Am Not Proud, But I Am Happy; And Happiness Blinds, I Think, More Than Pride.

Nothing Makes Time Pass Or Shortens The Way Like A Thought That Absorbs In Itself All The Faculties Of The One Who Is Thinking. External Existence Is Then Like A Sleep Of Which This Thought Is The Dream. Under Its Influence, Time Has No More Measure, Space Has No More Distance.

You Who Weep For Pleasures Fled, While Dragging On A Life Of Care, All Your Woes Will Melt In Air, If To God Your Tears Are Shed, You Who Weap!

It Is Quite Rare For God To Provide A Great Man At The Necessary Moment To Carry Out Some Great Deep, Which Is Why When This Unusual Combination Of Circumstance Does Occur, History At Once Records The Name Of The Chosen One And Recommends Him To The Admiration Of Posterity.

I Prefer The Wicked Rather Than The Foolish. The Wicked Sometimes Rest.