All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.

One only really sees with the heart.

He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.

There is no hope of joy except in human relations.

Prison is not a mere physical horror. It is using a pickaxe to no purpose that makes a prison.

Friendship is born from an identity of spiritual goals - from common navigation toward a star.

For, to conceited men, all other men are admirers.