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AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER

By Emile Souvestre





Always to mistake feeling for evidence

Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures
him!'

Are we then bound to others only by the
enforcement of laws

Attach a sense of remorse to each of my
pleasures

Brought them up to poverty

But above these ruins rises a calm and
happy face

Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell
to flesh!

Coffee is the grand work of a
bachelor's housekeeping

Contemptuous pride of knowledge

Death, that faithful friend of the
wretched

Defeat and victory only displace each
other by turns

Did not think the world was so great

Do they understand what makes them so
gay?

Each of us regards himself as the
mirror of the community

Ease with which the poor forget their
wretchedness

Every one keeps his holidays in his own
way

Fame and power are gifts that are
dearly bought

Favorite and conclusive answer of his
class--"I know"

Fear of losing a moment from business

Finishes his sin thoroughly before he
begins to repent

Fortune sells what we believe she gives

Her kindness, which never sleeps

Houses are vessels which take mere
passengers

Hubbub of questions which waited for no
reply

I make it a rule never to have any hope

Ignorant of what there is to wish for

Looks on an accomplished duty neither
as a merit nor a grievance

Make himself a name:  he becomes public
property

Moderation is the great social virtue

More stir than work

My patronage has become her property

No one is so unhappy as to have nothing
to give

Not desirous to teach goodness

Nothing is dishonorable which is useful

Our tempers are like an opera-glass

Poverty, you see, is a famous
schoolmistress

Power of necessity

Prisoners of work

Progress can never be forced on without
danger

Question is not to discover what will
suit us

Richer than France herself, for I have
no deficit in my budget

Ruining myself, but we must all have
our Carnival

Satisfy our wants, if we know how to
set bounds to them

Sensible man, who has observed much and
speaks little

So much confidence at first, so much
doubt at las

Sullen tempers are excited by the
patience of their victims

The happiness of the wise man costs but
little

The man in power gives up his peace

Two thirds of human existence are
wasted in hesitation

Virtue made friends, but she did not
take pupils

We do not understand that others may
live on their own account

We are not bound to live, while we are
bound to do our duty

What have you done with the days God
granted you

What a small dwelling joy can live

You may know the game by the lair


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