It is convenient that there be gods, and, as it is convenient, let us believe there are.

All human things hang on a slender thread, the strongest fall with a sudden crash.

Difficulty is what wakes up the genius.

Suppressed grief suffocates, it rages within the breast, and is forced to multiply its strength.

Enhance and intensify one's vision of that synthesis of truth and beauty which is the highest and deepest reality.

A broken fortune is like a falling column; the lower it sinks, the greater weight it has to sustain.

We two are to ourselves a crowd.