The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime The future promises, it is the present that pays Their love requires a return There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed Ties which unite parents to children are broken To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick To love is a great deal--To know how to love is everything We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are When time has softened your grief Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE, V1 [IM#14][im14b10.txt]3927 A man's life belongs to his duty, and not to his happiness All defeats have their geneses Foreigners are more Parisian than the Parisians themselves One of those beings who die, as they have lived, children Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of old men Superstition which forbids one to proclaim his happiness The Hungarian was created on horseback There were too many discussions, and not enough action Would not be astonished at anything You suffer? Is fate so just as that PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE, V2 [IM#15][im15b10.txt]3928 Life is a tempest Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as to despair No answer to make to one who has no right to question me Nothing ever astonishes me Poverty brings wrinkles PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE, V3 [IM#16][im16b10.txt]3929 An hour of rest between two ordeals, a smile between two sobs Anonymous, that velvet mask of scandal-mongers At every step the reality splashes you with mud Bullets are not necessarily on the side of the right Does one ever forget? History is written, not made. I might forgive," said Andras; "but I could not forget If well-informed people are to be believe Insanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal realized It is so good to know nothing, nothing, nothing Let the dead past bury its dead! Man who expects nothing of life except its ending Not only his last love, but his only love Pessimism of to-day sneering at his confidence of yesterday Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored of his own agony Taken the times as they are Unable to speak, for each word would have been a sob What matters it how much we suffer Why should I read the newspapers? Willingly seek a new sorrow THE ENTIRE PRINCE ZILAH BY JULES CLARETIE [IM#17][im17b10.txt]3930ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: