As a man grows older it is harder and harder to frighten him.
Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.
Love lessens woman’s delicacy and increases man’s.
A loving maiden grows unconsciously more bold.
The gymnasium of running, walking on stilts, climbing, etc. stells and makes hardy single powers and muscles, but dancing, like a corporeal poesy, embellishes, exercises, and equalizes all the muscles at once.
There are souls in this world which have the gift of finding joy everywhere and of leaving it behind them when they go.
Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over our heads scarcely gray.
Like a morning dream, life becomes more and more bright the longer we live, and the reason of everything appears more clear. What has puzzled us before seems less mysterious, and the crooked paths look straighter as we approach the end.
Every man has a rainy corner of his life whence comes foul weather which follows him.
Age doesn’t matter, unless your cheese.
The conscience of children is formed by the influences that surround them; their notions of good and evil are the result of the moral atmosphere they breathe.
Strong characters are brought out by change of situation, and gentle ones by permanence.
Remembrances last longer than present realities.
Repetition is the mother of education.
It is not the end of joy that makes old age so sad, but the end of hope.
What makes old age so sad is not that our joys but our hopes cease.
The German language is the organ among the languages.
What Cicero said of men-that they are like wines, age souring the bad, and bettering the good-we can say of misfortune, that it has the same effect upon them.
A sky full of silent suns.
For no one does life drag more disagreeably than for those who try to speed it up.