Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny. They learn what to do and what to avoid.

The greatest genius will not be worth much if he pretends to draw exclusively from his own resources

To be loved for what one is, that is the greatest exception. The great majority love in others only what they lend him; their own selves, their version of him.

Any trifle is enough to entertain two lovers.

God help us -- for art is long, and life so short.

What is uttered from the heart alone, Will win the hearts of others to your own.

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.