It is not enough to forgive; one must forget.
How much past there is in a life, however brief it be.
a perfect piece of architecture kindles that aimless reverie, which bears the soul we know not whither.
I do not want an echo of myself from my children. I do not want to hear from them merely the reverberation of my own voice.
The mystery of existence is the connection between our faults and our misfortunes.
Goethe has made a remark upon the perfectability of the human mind, which is full of sagacity: It is always advancing, but in a spiral line.