The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
Before we set our hearts too much upon anything, let us examine how happy those are who already possess it.
While we have the gift of life, it seems to me that only tragedy is to allow part of us to die - whether it is our spirit, our creativity, or our glorious uniqueness.
Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.
What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth - Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?
Nothing is so good for an ignorant man as silence; and if he was sensible of this he would not be ignorant.
My pessimism extends to the point of even suspecting the sincerity of the pessimists.