Superstition is the poetry of life.

No one should be rich except those who understand it.

What is hardest of all? That which seems most simple: to see with your eyes what is before your eyes.

Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures To restless action spurs our fate! Cursed when for soft, indulgent leisures, He lays for us the pillows straight.

When she sees the leaves fall, they raise no other idea in her mind than that winter is approaching.

We all walk in mysteries. We are surrounded by an atmosphere about which we still know nothing at all.

We always hope, and in all things it is better to hope than to despair.