We often feel that we lack something, and seem to see that very quality in someone else, promptly attributing all our own qualities to him too, and a kind of ideal contentment as well. And so the happy mortal is a model of complete perfection--which we have ourselves created.

What is part of you, you cannot get rid of, even if you were to throw it away.

One does not get to know that one exists until one rediscovers oneself in others.

People can only live with their equals, and not even with them; for in the long run they cannot tolerate that someone is their equal.

Go to foreign countries and you will get to know the good things one possesses at home.

When you lose interest in anything, you also lose the memory for it.

Our hands we open of our own free will, and the good flies, which we can never recall.