Whatever tears one may shed, in the end one always blows one's nose.

High in the air rises the forest of oaks, high over the oaks soar the eagle, high over the eagle sweep the clouds, high over the clouds gleam the stars... high over the stars sweep the angels.

Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.

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

Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.

All I really want is enough to live on, a little house in the country... and a tree in the garden with seven of my enemies hanging in it.

Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.