Ill-humor is nothing more than an inward feeling of our own want of merit, a dissatisfaction with ourselves which is always united with an envy that foolish vanity excites.

Nature goes her own way, and all that to us seems an exception is really according to order.

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

And those whom once my song had cheered and gladdened, If still they live, rove through the world now saddened.

Lay hold of life with both hands, whenever thou mayest seize it, it is interesting.

Music is so elevated that it is beyond the reach of intellect and there flows from it an influence which is all-potent, and which noone can explain.

The day is for mistake and error, sequence of time for success and carrying out. The one who anticipates is master of the day.