This is the hardest of all: to close the open hand out of love, and keep modest as a giver.

One must have all the virtues to sleep well. Shall I bear false witness? Shall I commit adultery? Shall I covet my neighbor's maid? All that would go ill with good sleep.

Memory says, 'I did that.' Pride replies, 'I could not have done that.' Eventually, memory yields.

Men after death ... are understood worse than men of the moment, but heard better.

The masters have been done away with; the morality of the common man has triumphed.

It seems to me that to take a book of mine into his hands is one of the rarest distinctions that anyone can confer upon himself. I even assume that he removes his shoes when he does so-not to speak of boots.

The snake that cannot shed its skin perishes.