Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.
I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
A man does not plant a tree for himself; he plants it for posterity.
A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.
Winter does not work only on a broad scale; he is careful in trifles.
Every man's road in life is marked by the grave of his personal likings.