This is the true measure of love, When we believe that we alone can love, That no one could ever have loved so before us, And that no one will ever love in the same way after us.

Does not man lack the force at the very point where he needs it most? And when he soars upward in joy, or sinks down in suffering, is not checked in both, is he not returned again to the dull, cold sphere of awareness, just when he was longing to lose himself in the fullness of the infinite.

Those who make use of devotion as a means and end generally are hypocrites.

Clever people are always the best conversations lexicon.

With little wit and ease to suit them, They whirl in narrow circling trails, Like kittens playing with their tails.

Talents are nurtured best in solitude, But character on life's tempestuous seas!

The rich want good wine, the poor, plenty of wine