It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so well.
The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows.
We combat obstacles in order to get repose, and when got, the repose is insupportable.