Superstition is the poetry of life.

Ah! my poor brain is racked and crazed, My spirit and senses amazed!

Is not the core of nature in the heart of man?

Experience is only half of experience.

Such is the frailty of man that even where he makes the truest and most forcible impression in the memory, in the heart of his beloved, there also he must perish.

We must not take the faults of our youth with us into old age, for age brings along its own defects.

Every solution of a problem is a new problem.