Our Life Is Woven Wind.

The Paper Is Patient, But The Reader Is Not.

Ideas Never Lack For Words. It Is Words That Lack Ideas. As Soon As The Idea Has Come To Its Last Degree Of Perfection, The Word Blossoms.

Pleasures Are Always Children, Pains Always Have Wrinkles.

Luckily, I Never Feel At One Time More Than Half My Pains.

Truth Consists Of Having The Same Idea About Something That God Has.