With his nightcaps and the tatters of his dressing-gown he patches up the gaps in the structure of the universe.

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

Oh, what lies there are in kisses.

Immortality—dazzling idea! who first imagined thee! Was it some jolly burgher of Nuremburg, who with night-cap on his head, and white clay pipe in mouth, sat on some pleasant summer evening before his door, and reflected in all his comfort, that it would be right pleasant, if, with unextinguishable pipe, and endless breath, he could thus vegetate onwards for a blessed eternity? Or was it a lover, who in the arms of his loved one, thought the immortality-thought, and that because he could think and feel naught beside!—Love! Immortality!

He only profits from praise who values criticism.

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

What lies lurk in kisses.