Only He Is Free Who Cultivates His

We Hear The Rain Fall, But Not The Snow. Bitter Grief Is Loud, Calm Grief Is Silent.

The World Is The Same Everywhere.

The Little Dissatisfaction Which Every Artist Feels At The Completion Of A Work Forms The Germ Of A New Work.

When The Foot Of The' Mountain Is Enveloped In Mist, The Mountain Appears To Us Much Loftier Than It Is; So Also When The Ground And Basis Of A Disaster Is Not Clear To Us.

What Is All Our Knowledge Worth? We Do Not Even Know What The Weather Will Be Tomorrow.