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My father looked carelessly at the title-page of my book, and said, “Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash.”
A man would make but a very sorry chemist, if he attended to that department of human knowledge alone.
I often suffered my mule to lag behind, and indulged in the misery of reflection.
Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.
Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.
Oh! be men, or be more than men.

