I nothing had, and yet enough for youth--Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth. Give unrestrained, the old emotion, The bliss that touched the verge of pain, The strength of Hate, Love's deep devotion,--O, give me back my youth again!

If it is the greatest truth that you seek, the plants can direct you.

Age merely shows what children we remain.

The sickness of the heart is most easily got rid of by complaining and soothing confidence.

Words are mere sound and smoke, dimming the heavenly light.

Talent is nurtured in solitude; character is formed in the stormy billows of the world.

The eye doesn't see any shapes, it sees only what is differentiated through light and dark or through colors.