If one has no heart, one cannot write for the masses.

It is only kindred griefs that draw forth our tears, and each weeps really for himself.

Thought is invisible nature.

I do not know the meaning of my sadness; there is an old fairy tale that I cannot get out of my mind.

God will forgive me. It's his job." Heine said this on his deathbed (1856). Hilarious. He must have thought that up years before and counted the seconds to use it.

No compass has ever been invented for the high seas of matrimony.

Round my cradle shimmered the last moonbeams of the eighteenth century and the first morning rays of the nineteenth.