The rich become richer and the poor become poorer is a cry heard throughout the whole civilized world.
Sentimental poetry differs from naive poetry in that it relates the real state at which the latter stops to ideas and applies ideas to that reality.
A beautiful soul has no other merit than its own existence.
The game of life looks cheerful when one carries a treasure safe in his heart.
I am my own heaven and hell!
A pity about the people! they are brave enough comrades, but they have heads like a soapboiler's.