It is not I that am drawing, it is this thing at the end of my hand.
Hatred as well as love, renders its votaries credulous.
Nature's instructions are always slow; those of men are generally premature.
Politeness requires this thing; decorum that; ceremony has its forms, and fashion its laws, and these must always follow, never the promptings of our own nature.
The universe was born restless and has never since been still.
When I go out into the countryside and see the sun and the green and everything flowering, I say to myself "Yes indeed, all that belongs to me!"