National literature does not mean much these days; now is the age of world literature, and every one must contribute to hasten thearrival of that age.

Whatever is the object of a saint's hope is the subject of his prayer.

Whoever wishes to keep a secret must hide the fact that he possesses one.

We all walk in mysteries. We are surrounded by an atmosphere about which we still know nothing at all.

America, you have it better than our continent, the old one.

A king there was once reigning, Who had a goodly flea, Him loved he without feigning, As his own son were he!

He who wishes to exert a useful influence must be careful to insult nothing. Let him not be troubled by what seems absurd, but concentrate his energies to the creation of what is good. He must not demolish, but build. He must raise temples where mankind may come and partake of the purest pleasure.