Silence is the essential condition of happiness.

Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.

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.

In these times we fight for ideas and newspapers are our fortress.

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

Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid

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.