We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves.

Smoothly and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is covered.

Literature is a fragment of a fragment. Of all that ever happened, or has been said, but a fraction has been written; and of this but little is extant.

One would give generous alms if one had the eyes to see the beauty of a cupped receiving hand.

Commonplaceness, the surrender to the average, that good which is not bad but still the enemy of the best - That is our besetting danger.

If you wish to know the mind of a man, listen to his words.

Let him who believes in immortality enjoy his happiness in silence; he has no reason to give himself airs about it.