If society gives up the right to impose the death penalty, then self-help will appear again and personal vendettas will be around the corner.

Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.

The flowers of life are but visionary. How many pass away and leave no trace behind! How few yield any fruit,--and the fruit itself, how rarely does it ripen! And yet there are flowers enough; and is it not strange, my friend, that we should suffer the little that does really ripen to rot, decay, and perish unenjoyed?

What people call the spirit of the times is mostly their own spirit in which the times mirror themselves.

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

On top of the world, or in the depths of despair.

Properly speaking, such work is never finished; one must declare it so when, according to time and circumstances, one has done one's best.