What matters in art is not thinking but making.

To me the external existence of my soul is proved from my idea of activity. If I work incessantly until my death, nature will give me another form of existence when the present can no longer sustain my spirit.

What we don't understand we don't possess.

That we understand something perfectly, that we accomplish something better than anyone else around us, that is what matters.

As beauteous is the world, and many a joy Floats through its wide dominion. But, alas, When we would seize the winged good, it flies.

Were the eye not of the sun, How could we behold the light? If God's might and ours were not as one, How could His work enchant our sight?

Who is the most sensible person? The one who finds what is to their own advantage in all that happens to them.