He, Who Can Create, Abhors Destruction.

Virginity Is The Poetry, Not The Reality, Of Life.

Providence Conceals Itself In The Details Of Human Affairs, But Becomes Unveiled In The Generalities Of History.

I Love The People Because I Believe In God. For, If I Did Not Believe In God, What Would The People Be To Me? I Should Enjoy At Ease That Lucky Throw Of The Dice, Which Chance Had Turned Up For Me, The Day Of My Birth; And, With A Secret, Savage Joy, I Should Say, "so Much The Worse For The Losers!--the World Is A Lottery. Woe To The Conquered!

Exquisite Beauty Resides Rather In The Female Form Than Face, Where It Is Also More Lasting.

The Death Of A Man's Wife Is Like Cutting Down An Ancient Oak That Has Long Shaded The Family Mansion. Henceforth The Glare Of The World, With Its Cares And Vicissitudes Falls Upon The Old Widower's Heart, And There Is Nothing To Break Their Force, Or Shield Him From The Full Weight Of Misfortune. It Is As If His Right Hand Were Withered; As If One Wing Of His Angel Was Broken, And Every Movement That He Made Brought Him To The Ground.