Music is harmony, harmony is perfection, perfection is our dream, and our dream is heaven.

Time is but the space between our memories; as soon as we cease to perceive this space, time has disappeared.

The great majority of men are but tangled skeins, imperfect keyboards, so many specimens of restless or stagnant chaos--and what makes their situation almost hopeless is the fact that they take pleasure in it. There is no curing a sick man who believes himself in health.

If man was what he ought to be, he would be adored by the animals.

Great men are true men, the men in whom nature has succeeded. They are not extraordinary - they are in the true order. It is the other species of men who are not what they ought to be.

It is dangerous to abandon one's self to the luxury of grief; it deprives one of courage, and even of the wish for recovery.

Every living being seeks instinctively to complete itself.