One never goes further than when they do not know where they are going.
To understand one thing well is better than understanding many things by halves.
Upon the creatures we have made, we are, ourselves, at last, dependent.
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.
Of the book of books most wondrous is the tender book of love.
Who can think wise or stupid things at all that were not thought already in the past.