We cannot too soon convince ourselves how easily we may be dispensed with in the world. What important personages we imagine ourselves to be! We think that we alone are the life of the circle in which we move; in our absence, we fancy that life, existence, breath will come to a general pause, and, alas, the gap which we leave is scarcely perceptible, so quickly is it filled again; nay, it is often the place, if not of something better, at least for something more agreeable.

All theory, my friend, is grey, But green is life's glad golden tree.

When an idea is wanting, a word can always be found to take its place.

What we agree with leaves us inactive, but contradiction makes us productive.

Everything transitory is but an image.

Yet here I stand poor fool what more, not one wit wiser than before.

Confronted by outstanding merit, there is no way of saving one's ego except by love