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

When the foot of the' mountain is enveloped in mist, the mountain appears to us much loftier than it is; so also when the ground and basis of a disaster is not clear to us.

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

Solitude has a healing consoler, friend, companion: it is work.

He who, to be happy, needs nothing but himself, is happy.

All men are selfish, but the vain man is in love with himself. He admires, like the lover his adored one, everything which to others is indifferent.

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.