Blushing, palpitations, a bad conscience--this is what you get if you haven't sinned.
Culture is the tacit agreement to let the means of subsistence disappear behind the purpose of existence.
Language is the mother of thought, not its handmaiden.
Stupidity gets up early; that is why events are accustomed to happening in the morning.
I saw a poet chase a butterfly in a meadow. He put his net on a bench where a boy sat reading a book. It's a misfortune that it is usually the other way round.
I have decided many a stylistic problem first by my head, then by heads or tails.