Let Us Be Grateful To People Who

But To Ask Pity Of Our Body Is Like Discoursing In Front Of An Octopus, For Which Our Words Can Have No More Meaning Than The Sound Of The Tides, And With Which We Should Be Appalled To Find Ourselves Condemned To Live.

I Have A Horror Of Sunsets; They're So Romantic, So Operatic.

We Do Not Succeed In Changing Things According To Our Desire, But Gradually Our Desire Changes.

The Bonds That Unite Us To Another Human Being Are Sanctified When He Or She Adopts The Same Point Of View As Ourselves In Judging One Of Our Imperfections.

All The Mind's Activity Is Easy If It Is Not Subjected To Reality.