Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.

There are so many tender and holy emotions flying about in our inward world, which, like angels, can never assume the body of an outward act; so many rich and lovely flowers spring up which bear no seed, that it is a happiness poetry was invented, which receives into its limbs all these incorporeal spirits, and the perfume of all these flowers.

As winter strips the leaves from around us, so that we may see the distant regions they formerly concealed, so old age takes away our enjoyments only to enlarge the prospect of the coming eternity.

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

In science the new is an advance; but in morals, as contradicting our inner ideals and historic idols, it is ever a retrogression.

The German language is the organ among the languages.

Two aged men, that had been foes for life, Met by a grave, and wept - and in those tears They washed away the memory of their strife; Then wept again the loss of all those years.