Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings.
Liberation is not deliverance.
Nothing makes a man so adventurous as an empty pocket.
Who then understands the reciprocal flux and reflux of the infinitely great and the infinitely small, the echoing of causes in the abysses of being, and the avalanches of creation?
Life is the flower for which love is the honey. Victor Hug