Man is a simple being. And however rich, varied, and unfathomable he may be, the cycle of his situations is soon run through.

The sum which two married people owe to one another defies calculation. It is an infinite debt, which can only be discharged through all eternity.

The few of understanding, vision rare, Who veiled not from the herd their hearts, but tried, Poor generous fools, to lay their feelings bare, Them have men always burnt and crucified.

Mediocrity has no greater consolation than in the thought that genius is not immortal.

Whoever, in middle age, attempts to realize the wishes and hopes of his early youth, invariably deceives himself. Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, its own hopes, its own desires.

There speaks the man of truly noble ways, Who will not listen to the words of praise. In modesty averse, and with deaf ears, He acts as though the others were his peers.

Such is the frailty of man that even where he makes the truest and most forcible impression-in the memory, in the heart of his beloved-, there also he must perish.

Names are but noise and smoke, Obscuring heavenly light.

Nothing is good for a nation but that which arises from its own core and its own general wants, without apish imitation of another.

Altogether, national hatred is something peculiar. You will always find it strongest and most violent where there is the lowest degree of culture.