Every man regards his own life as the New Year's Eve of time.

Variety of mere nothings gives more pleasure than uniformity of something.

Laughing cheerfulness throws the light of day on all the paths of life.

He thought of the mouldering child, which laid its withered thin arms around his soul, as if it were his own, and to whom Death had given as much as a god gave to Endymion, — sleep, eternal youth, and immortality.

Whenever, at a party, I have been in the mood to study fools, I have always looked for a great beauty: they always gather round her like flies around a fruit stall.

Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over our heads scarcely gray.

The purer the golden vessel, the more readily is it bent; the higher worth of woman is sooner lost than that of man.