The coward does not know what it means to be alone: an enemy is always standing behind his chair.

In loneliness, the lonely one eats himself; in a crowd, the many eat him. Now choose.

Sleep is no mean art.

The surest aid in combating the male's disease of self-contempt is to be loved by a clever woman.

The press, the machine, the railway, the telegraph are premises whose thousand-year conclusion no one has yet dared to draw.

Belief in form, but disbelief in content - that's what makes an aphorism charming.

The living is merely a type of what is dead, and a very rare type.