A woman's pity, which is talkative, carries the sick person's bed to the public marketplace.

A friend whose hopes we cannot satisfy is a friend we would rather have as an enemy.

He who knows himself to be profound endeavors to be clear; he who would like to appear profound to the crowd endeavors to be obscure.

I could only believe in a God who could dance... And now a God dances through me.

A nation usually renews its youth on a political sick-bed, and there finds again the spirit which it had gradually lost in seeking and maintaining power.

Women are constituted in such a way that all truth (regarding men, love, children, society, the purpose of life) disgusts them, and in such a way that they try to revenge themselves on anyone who opens their eyes.

Follow in the footsteps of your fathers' virtue! How could you hope to climb high unless your fathers' will climbs with you?