A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.

I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.

To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.

I go into my library, and all history unrolls before me. I breathe the morning air of the world while the scent of Eden's roses yet lingered in it, while it vibrated only to the world's first brood of nightingales, and to the laugh of Eve. I see the pyramids building; I hear the shoutings of the armies of Alexander.

Winter does not work only on a broad scale; he is careful in trifles.

A man does not plant a tree for himself; he plants it for posterity.

In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare to the mild heavens, and the red leaves bestrew the road, and you can feel the breath of winter, morning and evening - no days so calm, so tenderly solemn, and with such a reverent meekness in the air.