Giving Words [is] An Act Of Lovers.

The Probity That Scintillizes In The Superfices Of Your Persons Informs My Ratiocinating Faculty, In A Most Stupendous Manner, Of The Radiant Virtues Latent Within The Precious Caskets And Ventricles Of Your Minds.

How Comes It That You Curse, Frere Jean? It's Only, Said The Monk, In Order To Embellish My Language. They Are The Colors Of Ciceronian Rhetoric.

If The Head Is Lost, All That Perishes Is The Individual; If The Balls Are Lost, All Of Human Nature Perishes.

I Drink Eternally. For Me It Is An Eternity Of Drinking, And A Drinking Up Of Eternity.

Keep Running After A Dog And He Will Never Bite You.