Rivers Are Highways That Move On And

There Was Once In Man A True Happiness Of Which There Now Remain To Him Only The Mark And Empty Trace, Which He In Vain Tries To Fill From All His Surroundings, Seeking From Things Absent The Help He Does Not Obtain In Things Present.

Man's Grandeur Is That He Knows Himself To Be Miserable.

Those Honor Nature Well, Who Teach That She Can Speak On Everything...

Most Of Man's Trouble Comes From His Inability To Be Still.

Fashion Is A Tyrant From Which Nothing Frees Us. We Must Suit Ourselves To Its Fantastic Tastes. But Being Compelled To Live Under Its Foolish Laws, The Wise Man Is Never The First To Follow, Nor The Last To Keep It.