Perhaps you could get my old friend, Madame De--, to choose the Cachemire--take care of your health." This letter, which I read carefully twice over, threw me into a most serious meditation.

My first feeling was regret at leaving Paris; my second, was a certain exultation at the new prospects so unexpectedly opened to me.

The great aim of a philosopher is, to reconcile every disadvantage by some counterbalance of good--where he cannot create this, he should imagine it.

I began, therefore, to consider less what I should lose than what I should gain, by quitting Paris.

In the first place, I was tolerably tired of its amusements: no business is half so fatiguing as pleasure.