The demand to be loved is the greatest of all arrogant presumptions.
Our knowledge will take its revenge on us, just as ignorance exacted its revenge during the Middle Ages.
Love forgives the lover even his lust.
We can speak very much to the purpose and yet in such a way that the whole world cries out in contradiction: namely, when we are not speaking to the whole world.
Pardon me, my friends, I have ventured to paint my happiness on the wall.
I change too quickly: my today refutes my yesterday. When I ascend I often jump over steps, and no step forgives me that.