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A day will come when a cannon will be exhibited in museums, just as instruments of torture are now, and the people will be astonished that such a thing could have been.
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Every step which the intelligence of Europe has taken has been in spite of the clerical party.
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A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.
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The world of sleep has an existence of its own.
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Because a fact seems strange to you, you conclude that it is not one. ... All science, however, commences by being strange. Science is successive. It goes from one wonder to another. It mounts by a ladder. The science of to-day would seem extravagant to the science of a former time. Ptolemy would believe Newton mad.
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His judgement demonstrates that one can be a genius and understand nothing of an art that is not one's own.
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Great buildings, like great mountains, are the work of centuries.
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History has its truth, and so has legend. Legendary truth is of another nature than historical truth. Legendary truth is invention whose result is reality. Furthermore, history and legend have the same goal; to depict eternal man beneath momentary man.
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Art moves. Hence its civilizing power.
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Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.
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I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
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A fixed idea ends in madness or heroism.
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God whose gifts in gracious flood Unto all who seek are sent, Only asks you to be good And is content.
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The future has many names: For the weak, it means the unattainable. For the fearful, it means the unknown. For the courageous, it means opportunity.
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Wisdom and eloquence are not always united.
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Everything Changes. The only thing that remains immovable across the centuries and fixes the character of a people is cooking.
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When the heart is dry the eye is dry.
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War can only be qualified by its object, and there is neither foreign war nor civil war, there is only just or unjust war.
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Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
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If you look in the eyes of the young, you see flame. If you look in the eyes of the old, you see light.
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Labor is life; thought is light.
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Does there exist an Infinity outside ourselves? Is that infinity One, immanent and permanent, necessarily having substance, since He is infinite and if He lacked matter He would be limited, necessarily possessing intelligence since He is infinite and, lacking intelligence, He would be in that sense finite. Does this Infinity inspire in us the idea of essense, while to ourselves we can only attribute the idea of existence? In order words, is He not the whole of which we are but the part?
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Ideas can no more flow backward than can a river.
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Not seeing people permits us to imagine them with every perfection.