Yes, life is a woman!

What do we have in common with the rosebud, which trembles because a drop of dew lies on its body?

It is the evening that questions thus from within me.

There is nothing we like to communicate to others as much as the seal of secrecy together with what lies under it.

The golden fleece of self-sufficiency guards against cudgel- blows but not against pin-pricks.

Who is better, they who promote truth over happiness, or happiness over truth?

Someone who does not write books, who thinks a lot, and who lives in unsatisfying society will usually be a good letter- writer.