I speak with the Eternal through the instrument of nature, through the world's history: I read the soul of the artist in his Apollo.

Not without a shudder may the human hand reach into the mysterious urn of destiny.

Will it, and set to work briskly.

Against stupidity, God Himself fights in vain.

There is room in the smallest cottage for a happy loving pair.

The game of life looks cheerful when one carries a treasure safe in his heart.

The iron chain and the silken cord are both equally bonds.