An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.

Growing old is not a gradual decline, but a series of drops, full of sorrow, from one ledge to another below it.

So, I never lose a sense of the whimsical and perilous charm of daily life, with its meetings and words and accidents.

There are people whose society I find delicious; but when I sit alone and think of them I shudder.

We should nourish our souls on the dew of Poesy, and manure them as well.

Youth is the time for adventures of the body, but age for the triumphs of the mind.

Don't tell friends their social faults; they will cure the fault and never forgive you.