There is no more love, no more glory.
What heavy darkness over all the earth! And death will come ere the day breaks." This is what the body said: "Man is here below to satisfy his senses; he has more or less of white or yellow metal, by which he merits more or less esteem.

To eat, to drink, and to sleep, that is life.

As for the bonds which exist between men, friendship consists in loaning money; but one rarely has a friend whom he loves enough for that.

Kinship determines inheritance; love is an exercise of the body; the only intellectual joy is vanity." Like the Asiatic plague exhaled from the vapors of the Ganges, frightful despair stalked over the earth.

Already Chateaubriand, prince of poesy, wrapping the horrible idol in his pilgrim's mantle, had placed it on a marble altar in the midst of perfumes and holy incense.