“Words and deeds are far from being one. Much that is talked about is left undone.”

One ought to look a good deal at oneself before thinking of condemning others.

I want to be distinguished from the rest; to tell the truth, a friend to all mankind is not a friend for me.

No matter what Aristotle and the Philosophers say, nothing is equal to tobacco; it’s the passion of the well-bred, and he who lives without tobacco lives a life not worth living.

Love is often the fruit of marriage.

You never see the old austerity That was the essence of civility; Young people hereabouts, unbridled, now Just want.

Ah, there are no children nowadays.

All is wholesome in the absence of excess.

Reason is not what decides love.

Consistency is only suitable for ridicule.

Of all the noises known to man, opera is the most expensive.

One can be well-bred and write bad poetry.

Heaven forbids, it is true, certain gratifications, but there are ways and means of compounding such matters.

In order to prove a friend to one’s guests, frugality must reign in one’s meals; and, according to an ancient saying, one must eat to live, not live to eat.

It is madness beyond compare To try to reform the world.

The defects of human nature afford us opportunities of exercising our philosophy, the best employment of our virtues. If all men were righteous, all hearts true and frank and loyal, what use would our virtues be?

The maturing process of becoming a writer is akin to that of a harlot. First you do it for love, then for a few friends, and finally only for money.

To continue in one path is to go backward.

What did I hope for, what did I expect, what rich future did I foresee, when the phantom of my first love, rising up for an instant, barely called forth one sigh, one mournful sentiment?

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears its truth.

One has a nose. The nose scents and it chooses. An artist is simply a kind of pig snouting truffles.

When shall we see a life full of steady enthusiasm, walking straight to its aim, flying home, as that bird is now, against the wind – with the calmness and the confidence of one who knows the laws of God and can apply them?

Belonging to oneself–the whole essence of life lies in that.

As long as there is one heart on Earth where I still live, my memory will not die.

There is so many things wrong horribly wrong in this world but I know with certainty that you are not one of them.