How sad, ye Gods, how sad the world is at evening, how mysterious the mists over the swamps! You will know it when you have wandered astray in those mists, when you have suffered greatly before dying, when you have walked through the world carrying an unbearable burden. You know it two when you are weary and ready to leave this earth without regret; its mists; its swamps and its rivers; ready to give yourself into the arms of death with a light heart, knowing that death alone can comfort you.

Manuscripts do not burn.

Not causing trouble, not touching anything, fixing the primus.

If it is true that cowardice is the most grave vice, then the dog, at least, is not guilty of it.

Cowardice is the most terrible of vices.

Nobody should be whipped. Remember that, once and for all. Neither man nor animal can be influenced by anything but suggestion.

the hope that there she would manage to regain her happiness made her fearless