There is not a single outward mark of courtesy that does not have a deep moral basis.

The confidant of my vices is my master, though he were my valet.

Oblivion is full of people who allow the opinions of others to overrule their belief in themselves.

Never by reflection, but only by doing is self- knowledge possible to one.

I do not now begin, - I still adore Her whom I early cherish'd in my breast; Then once again with prudence dispossess'd, And to whose heart I'm driven back once more. The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love, Was unrequited, and, alas, full sad.

Who strives always to the utmost, him can we save.

Of the truly creative no one is ever master; it must be left to go its own way.