All theory, dear friend, is gray, but the golden tree of life springs ever green.

That is the way of youth and life in general: that we do not understand the strategy until after the campaign is over.

Truth is a torch but a tremendous one. That is why we hurry past it, shielding our eyes, indeed, in fear of getting burned.

We gladly put antiquity above our age but not posterity. Only a father doesn't begrudge his son's talent.

Great endowments often announce themselves in youth in the form of singularity and awkwardness.

The little man is still a man.

I do not speak of what I cannot praise.