There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

Death is a punishment to some, to others a gift and to many a favour.

Why do I not seek some real good; one which I could feel, not one which I could display?

Everything is the product of one universal creative effort. There is nothing dead in Nature.

It is another's fault if he be ungrateful, but it is mine if I do not give. To find one thankful man, I will oblige a great many that are not so.

It's the great soul that surrenders itself to fate, but a puny degenerate thing that struggles.

To want simply what is enough nowadays suggests to people primitiveness and squalor.