The artist has a twofold relation to nature; he is at once her master and her slave.

Mysterious in the light of day, nature retains her veil, despite our clamours: That which she does not willingly display cannot be wrenched from her with levers, screws and hammers.

We can't form our children on our own concepts; we must take them and love them as God gives them to us.

Microscopes and telescopes really confuse our minds.

The child, offered the mother's breast, Will not in the beginning grab it; But soon it clings to it with zest. And thus at wisdom's copious breasts You'll drink each day with greater zest.

Alas! sorrow from happiness is oft evolved.

Man is made by his belief. As he believes, so he is.