Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.

Like a morning dream, life becomes more and more bright the longer we live, and the reason of everything appears more clear. What has puzzled us before seems less mysterious, and the crooked paths look straighter as we approach the end.

The look of a king is itself a deed.

In women everything is heart, even the head.

With so many thousand joys, is it not black ingratitude to call the world a place of sorrow and torment?

What a father says to his children is not heard by the world, but it will be heard by posterity.

The German language is the organ among the languages.