The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a caress, and only waiting for the signal.

The true sage is not he who sees, but he who, seeing the furthest, has the deepest love for mankind.

There comes no adventure but wears to our soul the shape of our everyday thoughts.

If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live.

He who sees without loving is only straining his eyes in the darkness.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

How strangely do we diminish a thing as soon as we try to express it in words.