Hatred is a heavy burden. It sinks the heart deep in the breast, and lies like a tombstone on all joys.

Every situation--nay, every moment--is of infinite worth; for it is the representative of a whole eternity.

He who can not learn to love must flatter.

Is this the destiny of man? Is he only happy before he has acquired his reason or after he has lost it?

For what one has in black and white, One can carry home in comfort.

Solitude is fine when you are at peace with yourself and have something definite to do.

Who can think wise or stupid things at all that were not thought already in the past.