Virginity Is The Poetry, Not The Reality,

Eternity Is So Certain And So Terrible That A Thousand Lives Would Not Suffice To Prepare For It.

If One Had But A Single Glance To Give The World, One Should Gaze On Istanbul.

Reading Furnishes The Mind Only With Materials Of Knowledge; It Is Thinking That Makes What We Read Ours. I Am The Fellow Citizen Of Every Being That Thinks; My Country Is Truth.

God - But A Word Invoked To Explain The World.

The Death Of A Man's Wife Is Like Cutting Down An Ancient Oak That Has Long Shaded The Family Mansion. Henceforth The Glare Of The World, With Its Cares And Vicissitudes Falls Upon The Old Widower's Heart, And There Is Nothing To Break Their Force, Or Shield Him From The Full Weight Of Misfortune. It Is As If His Right Hand Were Withered; As If One Wing Of His Angel Was Broken, And Every Movement That He Made Brought Him To The Ground.