The graceful flowers of innocence are more valuable than the laurel crown of fame.

At certain times, men regard poetry merely as a bright flame, but to women it was, and always will be, a warm fire.

Do you think that it is possible to have a mere taste of commonness? Either one hates it or makes common cause with it.

Critics are reprimanded when they get sarcastic. How absurd! Is the torch of criticism supposed to shine without burning?

Distinctly different as a child, as an adolescent, in his prime and in his old age, man considers himself as one, not because he acts, but because he knows.

Gratitude is a fickle thing, indeed. A person taking aim presses the weapon to his chest and cheek, but when he hits, he discardsit with indifference.

Progress will always have as its recourse to exaggerate what it cannot surpass.