Self love is like that instrument by which we propagate the species: it is necessary, it is dear to us, it gives us pleasure, and it must be hidden.
Divert yourself, and ask each passenger to tell his story, and if there is one of them all who has not cursed his existence many times, and said to himself over and over again that he was the most miserable of men, I give you permission to throw me head-first into the sea.
I would rather obey a fine lion, much stronger than myself, than two hundred rats of my own species.
The mouth obeys poorly when the heart murmurs.
Reading nurtures the soul, and an enlightened friend brings it solace.
Martin in particular concluded that man was born to live either in the convulsions of misery, or in the lethargy of boredom.