Suffering has roused them from the sleep of gentle life, and every day fills them with a terrible intoxication. They are now something more than themselves; those we loved were merely happy shadows.
We do not know the true value of our moments until they have undergone the test of memory.
In the beds which the piety of the public has prepared on every side, stricken men await the verdict of fate.
The swimmer adrift on the open seas measures his strength, and strives with all his muscles to keep himself afloat. But what is he to do when there is no land on the horizon, and none beyond it?
I have too much respect for the idea of God to make it responsible for such an absurd world.
It is strange what a contempt men have for the joys that are offered them freely.
