I do not know if she was virtuous, but she was ugly, and with a woman that is half the battle.

Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.

Sweet May lies fresh before us, To life the young flowers leap, And through the Heaven's blue o'er us The rosy cloudlets sweep.

Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle. For it stands halfway between thought and phenomenon, between spirit and matter.

Money is the god of our time, and Rothschild is his prophet.

Music played at weddings always reminds me of the music played for soldiers before they go into battle.

I do not know if she was virtuous, but she was ugly, and with a woman that is half the battle.