All truths are old, and all that we have to do is recognize and utter them anew.

A leaf that is destined to grow large is full of grooves and wrinkles at the start. Now if one has no patience and wants it smooth offhand like a willow leaf, there is trouble ahead.

True works of art contain their own theory and give us the measurement according to which we should judge them.

Lord Byron is only great as a poet; as soon as he reflects he is a child.

Here too it’s masquerade, I find: As everywhere, the dance of mind. I grasped a lovely masked procession, And caught things from a horror show… I’d gladly settle for a false impression, If it would last a little longer, though.

Money lost, something lost. Honor lost, much lost. Courage lost, everything lost-better you were never born

Over all the mountain tops is peace.