New ideas come into this world somewhat like falling meteors, with a flash and an explosion.

I find it, as ever, very unprofitable to have much to do with men. It is sowing the wind, but not reaping even the whirlwind; onlyreaping an unprofitable calm and stagnation. Our conversation is a smooth, and civil, and never-ending speculation merely.

There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature and has his senses still.

The mass of men are very easily imposed on. They have their runways in which they always travel, and are sure to fall into any pit or box-trap set therein.

What I began by reading, I must finish by acting.

I love a life whose plot is simple.

What avails it that another loves you, if he does not understand you? Such love is a curse.