Weep, for the light is dead.
Art is difficult, transient is her reward.
Ever building, building to the clouds, still building higher, and never reflecting that the poor narrow basis cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.
A beautiful soul has no other merit than its own existence.
Every man stamps his value on himself... man is made great or small by his own will.
When you are not happy with your life, always think that someone is happy simply because you exist