Some men, like modern shops, hang everything in their show windows; when one goes inside, nothing is to be found.

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

Gratitude is a soil on which joy thrives.

We hear the rain fall, but not the snow. Bitter grief is loud, calm grief is silent.

In Nature there is no dirt, everything is in the right condition; the swamp and the worm, as well as the grass and the bird,-all is there for itself.

It is only when one is thoroughly true that there can be purity and freedom. Falsehood always punishes itself.

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