To love someone is to see them as they truly are, and still, to care for them.
The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.
The stranger is close to us, insofar as we feel between him and ourselves common features of a national, social, occupational, or generally human, nature. He is far from us, insofar as these common features extend beyond him or us, and connect us only because they connect a great many people.