There is something great and terrible about suicide.
From Honore de Balzac
What is a child, monsieur, but the image of two beings, the fruit of two sentiments spontaneously blended?
Political liberty, the peace of a nation, and science itself are gifts for which Fate demands a heavy tax in blood!
Those who spend too fast never grow rich.
Suicide, moreover, was at the time in vogue in Paris: what more suitable key to the mystery of life for a skeptical society?
At fifteen, beauty and talent do not exist; there can only be promise of the coming woman.
Ideas devour the ages as men are devoured by their passions. When man is cured, human nature will cure itself perhaps.
Study lends a kind of enchantment to all our surroundings.
To those who have exhausted politics, nothing remains but abstract thought.
Lovers have a way of using this word, nothing, which implies exactly the opposite.
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