The happiest man is the one who finds happiness at home.

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

One criticizes the English for carrying their teapots wherever they go, even lugging them up Mount Etna. But doesn't every nationhave its teapot, in which, even when traveling, it brews the dried bundles of herbs brought from home?

The finished man, you know, is difficult to please; a growing mind will ever show you gratitude. --Faust 1, lines 182-3

Nothing is true, but that which is simple.

Keep not standing fixed and rooted. Briskly venture, briskly roam.

One never goes further than when they do not know where they are going.