Not in nature but in man is all the beauty and worth he sees. The world is very empty, and is indebted to this gilding, exalting soul for all its pride.
Wherever a man comes, there comes revolution. The old is for slaves.
There can be no excess to love, none to knowledge, none to beauty.
I--this thought which is called I--is the mould into which the world is poured like melted wax.
If a man sits down to think, he is immediately asked if he has a headache.
Let no one honour me with tears, or bury me with lamentation. Why? Because I fly hither and thither, living in the mouths of me.