The highest happiness, the purest joys of life, wear out at last.

Sweet moonlight, shining full and clear, Why do you light my torture here? How often have you seen me toil, Burning last drops of midnight oil. On books and papers as I read, My friend, your mournful light you shed. If only I could flee this den And walk the mountain-tops again, Through moonlit meadows make my way, In mountain caves with spirits play - Released from learning's musty cell, Your healing dew would make me well!

If each one does their duty as an individual and if each one works in their own proper vocation, it will be right with the whole.

Must it ever be thus-that the source of our happiness must also be the fountain of our misery? The full and ardent sentiment which animated my heart with the love of nature, overwhelming me with a torrent of delight, and which brought all paradise before me, has now become an insupportable torment, a demon which perpetually pursues and harrasses me.

The world remains ever the same.

Judge a man's character by what he finds ridiculous.

One needs only to get old to become milder; I don't see anyone make a mistake I hadn't also made.