One errs as long as one strives.

National literature does not mean much these days; now is the age of world literature, and every one must contribute to hasten thearrival of that age.

No one has ever learned fully to know themselves.

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.

Two souls dwell, alas! in my breast.

Science and art belong to the whole world, and before them vanish the barriers of nationality.

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.