living for oneself is a bad thing. The keenest intellectual pleasure comes from being able to return to the self after being absent from it for a spell. But living all the time inside the self, that most tyrannical, demanding and capricious of companions - no, one shouldn't do it.

Where love is absent there can be no woman.

A man is not a wall, whose stones are crushed upon the road; or a pipe, whose fragments are thrown away at a street corner. The fragments of an intellect are always good.

Death must no longer be either the penalty for prosperity or the consolation of misery. God did not destine it to be either the punishment or the compensation for life.

Nothing resembles selfishness more closely than self-respect

a woman's heart has no wrinkles.

Talent, will and genius are natural phenomena like the lake, the volcano, the mountain, the wind, the star, the cloud.