Every age has its problem, by solving which humanity is helped forward.

I fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom.

The years keep coming and going, Men will arise & depart; Only one thing is immortal: The love that is in my heart.

First, I thought, almost despairing, This must crush my spirit now; Yet I bore it, and am bearing- Only do not ask me how.

The fountain of love is the rose and the lily, the sun and the dove.

There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.

Perfumes are the feelings of flowers, and as the human heart, imagining itself alone and unwatched, feels most deeply in the night-time, so seems it as if the flowers, in musing modesty, await the mantling eventide ere they give themselves up wholly to feeling...