A musical theme once exhausted, finds its due refuge and repose in silence.

Happiness has no limits, because God has neither bottom nor bounds, and because happiness is nothing but the conquest of God through love.

A man only understands what is akin to something already existing in himself.

At bottom there is but one subject of study: the forms and metamorphoses of mind. All other subjects may be reduced to that; all other studies bring us back to this study.

The ideal, after all, is true than the real: for the ideal is the eternal element in perishable things.

If nationality is consent, the state is compulsion.

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.