We consider it tedious to talk of the weather, and yet there is nothing more important.

Our second mother, habit, is also a good mother.

The little dissatisfaction which every artist feels at the completion of a work forms the germ of a new work.

Truly, one gets easier accustomed to a silken bed than to a sack of leaves.

The silver-leaved birch retains in its old age a soft bark; there are some such men.

Years teach us more than books.

Being alone when one's belief is firm, is not to be alone.