“Weep, for the light is dead.”

If you want to study yourself, look into the hearts of other people. If you want to study other people, look into your own heart.

When the wine goes in, strange things come out.

Ever building, building to the clouds, still building higher, and never reflecting that the poor narrow basis cannot sustain the giddy tottering column.

I am called The richest monarch in the Christian world; The sun in my dominion never sets.

It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons.

There is a nobility in the world of manners.

Seraphs share with thee Knowledge; but Art, O Man, is thine alone!

For the world is only governed by self-interest.

The average estimate themselves by what they do, the above average by what they are.

Wouldst thou know thyself, observe the actions of others. Wouldst thou other men know, look thou within thine own heart.

Emulation is a noble and just passion, full of appreciation.

Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair.

Truth lives on in the midst of deception.

Even now, nature is the only flame, on which the poetic spirit feeds; from it alone it draws all its power, to it alone it speaks even in the artificial, in the man engaged in culture.

Time consecrates; and what is gray with age becomes religion.

It hinders the creative work of the mind if the intellect examines too closely the ideas as they pour in.

Bittersweet is kind of my own favourite style because I want to be able to cry to the same song that I also can laugh to.

That moment I felt a bit like crying. I don’t really know why. Nana’s hand felt so warm that it even warmed my heart.

Anyone can make you smile, many people can make you cry, but it takes someone really special to make you smile with tears in your eyes.

Maybe the wolf is in love with the moon, and each month it cries for a love it will never touch.

A reporter once asked me if I ever cried. I wonder if people think I’m just as hard as a rock and have no emotions at all.

Let no one pay me honor with tears, nor celebrate my funeral rites with weeping.

Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men.

Please tell your sons. It’s okay to cry. Tears don’t make them any less of a boy.