Happiness comes the way the wind blows.

Love, like fire, goes out without fuel.

Happy people are ignoramuses and glory is nothing else but success, and to achieve it one only has to be cunning.

In simple hearts the feeling for the beauty and grandeur of nature is a hundred-fold stronger and more vivid than in us, ecstatic composers of narratives in words and on paper.

Passions are merely ideas in their initial stage.

My whole life has been merely a succession of miserable and unsuccessful denials of feelings or reason.

An unusual beginning must have an unusual end.