The men of the past had convictions, while we moderns have only opinions.

Where words cease, there music begins.

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

I care little in the existence of a heaven or hell; self respect does not allow me to guide my acts with an eye toward heavenly salvation or hellish punishment. I pursue the good in life because it is beautiful and attracts me; and shun the bad because it is ugly and repulsive. All our acts should originate from the spring of unselfish love, whether there be a continuation after death or not.

I do not murmur, even if my heart break.

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

Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.