Honore de Balzac
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A mother who is really a mother is never free.
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Political liberty, the peace of a nation, and science itself are gifts for which Fate demands a heavy tax in blood!
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Love is the poetry of the senses.
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To those who have exhausted politics, nothing remains but abstract thought.
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But reason always cuts a poor figure beside sentiment the one being essentially restricted, like everything that is positive, while the other is infinite.