Nothing blocks happiness like happiness remembered.

The world will be saved by one or two people.

Each thought becomes an anxiety in my brain. I am becoming the ugliest of all things: a busy man.

Most often it happens that one attributes to others only the feelings of which one is capable oneself.

Mozart's joy is made of serenity, and a phrase of his music is like a calm thought; his simplicity is merely purity. It is a crystalline thing in which all the emotions play a role, but as if already celestially transposed. Moderation consists in feeling emotions as the angels do.

To be sure, theory is useful. But without warmth of heart and without love it bruises the very ones it claims to save.

The wise man is astonished by anything.