And there is quite a different sort of conversation around a fire than there is in the shadow of a beech tree.... Four dry logs have in them all the circumstance necessary to a conversation of four or five hours, with chestnuts on the plate and a jug of wine between the legs. Yes, let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.

Why should I be ashamed to describe what nature was not ashamed to create?

I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.

They merit more praise who know how to suffer misery than those who temper themselves in contentment.

I am a free man. I do not need to copy Petrarca or Boccaccio. My own genius is enough. Let others worry themselves about style, and so cease to be themselves. Without a master, without a model, without a guide, I go to work and earn my living, my well-being and my fame.

We are the buffoons of our children.

Why should the eyes be denied what delights them most?