AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER

Always to mistake feeling for evidenceAmbroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cureshim!'Are we then bound to others only by theenforcement of lawsAttach a sense of remorse to each of mypleasuresBrought them up to povertyBut above these ruins rises a calm andhappy faceCarn-ival means, literally, "farewellto flesh!Coffee is the grand work of abachelor's housekeepingContemptuous pride of knowledgeDeath, that faithful friend of thewretchedDefeat and victory only displace eachother by turnsDid not think the world was so greatDo they understand what makes them sogay?Each of us regards himself as themirror of the communityEase with which the poor forget theirwretchednessEvery one keeps his holidays in his ownwayFame and power are gifts that aredearly boughtFavorite and conclusive answer of hisclass--"I know"Fear of losing a moment from businessFinishes his sin thoroughly before hebegins to repentFortune sells what we believe she givesHer kindness, which never sleepsHouses are vessels which take merepassengersHubbub of questions which waited for noreplyI make it a rule never to have any hopeIgnorant of what there is to wish forLooks on an accomplished duty neitheras a merit nor a grievanceMake himself a name:  he becomes publicpropertyModeration is the great social virtueMore stir than workMy patronage has become her propertyNo one is so unhappy as to have nothingto giveNot desirous to teach goodnessNothing is dishonorable which is usefulOur tempers are like an opera-glassPoverty, you see, is a famousschoolmistressPower of necessityPrisoners of workProgress can never be forced on withoutdangerQuestion is not to discover what willsuit usRicher than France herself, for I haveno deficit in my budgetRuining myself, but we must all haveour CarnivalSatisfy our wants, if we know how toset bounds to themSensible man, who has observed much andspeaks littleSo much confidence at first, so muchdoubt at lasSullen tempers are excited by thepatience of their victimsThe happiness of the wise man costs butlittleThe man in power gives up his peaceTwo thirds of human existence arewasted in hesitationVirtue made friends, but she did nottake pupilsWe do not understand that others maylive on their own accountWe are not bound to live, while we arebound to do our dutyWhat have you done with the days Godgranted youWhat a small dwelling joy can liveYou may know the game by the lair