The leaves are falling, falling as from way off, as though far gardens withered in the skies; they are falling with denying gestures. And in the nights the heavy earth is falling from all the stars down into loneliness. We all are falling. This hand falls. And look at others: it is in them all. And yet there is one who holds this falling endlessly gently in his hands.

Every revolution was first a thought in one man's mind.

Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more; in the leafless root there is no less.

Many of the historical proverbs have a doubtful paternity.

Let not the author eat up the man, so that he shall be all balcony and no house.

The eloquent man is he who is no beautiful speaker, but who is inwardly and desperately drunk with a certain belief.

Luck is just another word for tenacity of purpose.