A man's memory may almost become the art of continually varying and misrepresenting his past, according to his interest in the present.

To know what people really think, pay regard to what they do, rather than what they say.

Old age is as forgetful as youth, and more incorrigible; it displays the same inattentiveness to conditions; its memory becomes self-repeating and degenerates into an instinctive reaction, like a bird's chirp.

If pain could have cured us we should long ago have been saved.

One's friends are that part of the human race with which one can be human.

If artists and poets are unhappy, it is after all because happiness does not interest them.

The true Christian is in all countries a pilgrim and a stranger.