Conscience Is God Present In

Every Good Quality Runs Into A Defect; Economy Borders On Avarice, The Generous Are Not Far From The Prodigal, The Brave Man Is Close To The Bully; He Who Is Very Pious Is Slightly Sanctimonious; There Are Just As Many Vices To Virtue As There Are Holes In The Mantle Of Diogenes.

If A Writer Wrote Merely For His Time, I Would Have To Break My Pen And Throw It Away.

Genius Is A Promontory Jutting Out Into The Infinite.

Youth Is The Future Smiling At A Stranger, Which Is Itself.

I Met In The Street A Very Poor Young Man Who Was In Love. His Hat Was Old, His Coat Worn, His Cloak Was Out At The Elbows, The Water Passed Through His Shoes, - And The Stars Through His Soul.