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

Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.

The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night; they shriek and rage and quarrel - and all of them are right.

He is noble who both feels and acts nobly.

It is a common phenomenon that just the prettiest girls find it so difficult to get a man.

Like a great poet, Nature produces the greatest results with the simplest means. These are simply a sun, trees, flowers, water and love.

The real madness probably is not another thing that the wisdom itself that, tired of discovering the shames of the world, has taken the intelligent resolution to become mad