He who considers himself a paragon of wisdom is sure to commit some superlatively stupid act.

The noble man is only God's image.

Who cannot but see oftentimes how strange the threads of our destiny run? Oft it is only for a moment the favorable instant is presented. We miss it, and months and years are lost.

Love knows no winter; no, no! It is, and remains the sign of spring.

He who considers himself a paragon of wisdom is sure to commit some superlatively stupid act.

He who loves not flowers, has lost all love and fear of God.

He is not dead who departs from life with a high and noble fame; but he is dead, even while living, whose brow is branded with infamy.