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

For the Infinite has sowed his name in the heavens in burning stars, but on the earth He has sowed his name in tender flowers.

It is not the end of joy that makes old age so sad, but the end of hope.

A loving maiden grows unconsciously more bold.

Repetition is the mother of education.

Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest.

In women everything is heart, even the head.