Between being able to and actually doing something lies an ocean, and on its bottom rests all too often the wreck of willpower.
n every exalted joy, there mingles a sense of gratitude.
He who believes in freedom of the will has never loved and never hated.
Wit is an intermittent fountain; kindness is a perennial spring.
In meeting again after a separation, acquaintances ask after our outward life, friends after our inner life.
If there is a believe that is capable to move mountains it is the believe in our own strength.