She carries its destiny in the folds of her mantle. Great men are true men, the men in whom nature has succeeded. They are not extraordinary - they are in the true order. It is the other species of men who are not what they ought to be. To live we must conquer incessantly, we must have the courage to be happy.
Analysis kills spontaneity.
Without passion man is a mere latent force, and possibility, like the flint which awaits the shock of the iron before it can give forth its spark. We are never more discontented with others than when we are discontented with ourselves. The consciousness of wrong-doing makes us irritable, and our heart, in its cunning, quarrels with what is outside it, in order that it may deafen the clamor within. To know how to suggest is the art of teaching. Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us.