The loss of a much-prized treasure is only half felt when we have not regarded its tenure as secure.

Let everyone sweep in front of his own door, and the whole world will be clean.

I laugh at my heart, and do its will

Pity on the person who has become accustomed to seeing in necessity something arbitrary, who ascribes to the arbitrary some sort of reason, and even claims that following that sort of reason has religious value.

The finished man, you know, is difficult to please; a growing mind will ever show you gratitude. --Faust 1, lines 182-3

One never goes further than when they do not know where they are going.

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