Take life too seriously, and what is it worth? If the morning wake us to no new joys, if the evening bring us not the hope of new pleasure, is it worthwhile to dress and undress?

Is it not enough that we cannot make one another happy, must we also rob one another of the pleasures that any heart may permit itself now and then? And name me a person who in a bad mood will be decent enough to hide it, to bear it alone, without destroying the joy around him. Is it not rather an inner dissatisfaction with our own unworthiness, a dislike of ourselves that is always associated with envy aggravated by foolish conceit? We see people happy and not made happy by us, and that is unbearable.

Talent develops in quiet, alone; character is sharpened in the torrent of the world.

Publishers are all cohorts of the devil; there must be a special hell for them somewhere.

Higher yet and higher out of clouds and night, nearer yet and nearer rising to the light - light, serene and holy where my soul may rest, purified and lowly, sanctified and blest.

The little that is completed, vanishes from the sight of one who looks forward to what is still to do.

It is only necessary to grow old to become more charitable and even indulgent. I see no fault committed by others that I have not committed myself.