Time wasted is a theft from God.

The more a man loves, the more he suffers. The sum of possible grief for each soul is in proportion to its degree of perfection.

Man never knows what he wants; he aspires to penetrate mysteries and as soon as he has, wants to re-establish them. Ignorance irritates him and knowledge cloys.

Nothing finite is true, is interesting, is worthy to fix my attention. All that is particular is exclusive, and all that is exclusive repels me.

We are never more discontented with others than when we are discontented with ourselves.

Sadness takes up the pen more readily than joy.

Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind.