Everyone Became Brave From Excess

And Indeed, What Is Better Than To Sit By One's Fireside In The Evening With A Book, While The Wind Beats Against The Window And The Lamp Is Buring?

Come, Let’s Be Calm: No One Incapable Of Restraint Was Ever A Writer.

You Can't Find The Soul With A Scalpel.

Sick, Irritated, And The Prey To A Thousand Discomforts, I Go On With My Labor Like A True Workingman, Who, With Sleeves Rolled Up, In The Sweat Of His Brow, Beats Away At His Anvil, Not Caring Whether It Rains Or Blows, Hails Or Thunders.

Doubt … Is An Illness That Comes From Knowledge And Leads To Madness.