Nature is an aeolian harp, a musical instrument whose tones are the re-echo of higher strings within us.

The art of writing books is not yet invented. But it is at the point of being invented. Fragments of this nature are literary seeds. There may be many an infertile grain among them: nevertheless, if only some come up!

To become properly acquainted with a truth, we must first have disbelieved it, and disputed against it.

There is an energy which springs from sickness and debility: it has a more powerful effect than the real, but, sadly, expires in an even greater infirmity.

The highest purpose of intellectual cultivation is to give a man a perfect knowledge and mastery of his own inner self.

Character is a wish for a perfect education.

A complete need should not exist... love, life in common with loved ones?