Maxioms by Jean De La Fontaine
There is no road of flowers leading to glory
There is no road of flowers leading to glory
A fly sat on the chariot wheel
And said "what a dust I raise."
A fly sat on the chariot wheel
And said "what a dust I raise."
Man is so made that when anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish
Man is so made that when anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish
We become innocent when we are unfortunate.
[Fr., On devient innocent quand on est malheureux.]
We become innocent when we are unfortunate.
[Fr., On devient innocent quand on est malheureux.]
