To Be Among People One Loves, That's

From Time To Time There Appear On The Face Of The Earth Men Of Rare And Consummate Excellence, Who Dazzle Us By Their Virtue, And Whose Outstanding Qualities Shed A Stupendous Light. Like Those Extraordinary Stars Of Whose Origins We Are Ignorant, And Of Whose Fate, Once They Have Vanished, We Know Even Less, Such Men Have Neither Forebears Nor Descendants: They Are The Whole Of Their Race.

I Take Sanctuary In An Honest Mediocrity.

How Sweet, How Passing Sweet, Is Solitude!

The Beginning And The End Of Love Are Both Marked By Embarrassment When The Two Find Themselves Alone. [fr., Le Commencement Et Le Declin De L'amour Se Font Sentir Par L'embarras Ou L'on Est De Se Trouver Seuls.]

Misers Are Neither Relations, Nor Friends, Nor Citizens, Nor Christians, Nor Perhaps Even Human Beings.