Let Us Accept Truth, Even

One Is Happy As A Result Of One's Own Efforts, Once One Knows Of The Necessary Ingredients Of Happiness-simple Tastes, A Certain Degree Of Courage, Self-denial To A Point, Love Of Work, And, Above All, A Clear Conscience. Happiness Is No Vague Dream, Of That I Now Feel Certain.

A Man Is Not A Wall, Whose Stones Are Crushed Upon The Road; Or A Pipe, Whose Fragments Are Thrown Away At A Street Corner. The Fragments Of An Intellect Are Always Good.

Young Love Needs Dangers And Barriers To Nourish It.

Masterpieces Are Only Lucky Attempts.

... The Progress Of The Language Has Caused Us To Lose Many Old Treasures. It Is Thus With All Progress, And One Must Make The Best Of It.