The greatest events-they are not our loudest but our stillest hours.

Loneliness is one thing, solitude another.

That grand drama in a hundred acts, which is reserved for the next two centuries of Europe-the most terrible, most questionable and perhaps also the most hopeful of all dramas.

A man who is very busy seldom changes his opinions.

[Heraclitus had] the highest form of pride [stemming] from a certainty of belief in the truth as grasped by himself alone. He brings this form, by its excessive development, into a sublime pathos by involuntary identification of himself with his truth.

From which stars have we fallen to meet each other here?

What can everyone do? Praise and blame. This is human virtue, this is human madness.