The Scholar Seeks Truth, The Artist Finds.

Each Thought Becomes An Anxiety In My Brain. I Am Becoming The Ugliest Of All Things: A Busy Man.

I Advise The Young To Tell Themselves Constantly That Most Often It Is Up To Them Alone.

You Have To Let Other People Be Right' Was His Answer To Their Insults. 'it Consoles Them For Not Being Anything Else.

Oh, Would That My Mind Could Let Fall Its Dead Ideas, As The Tree Does Its Withered Leaves! And Without Too Many Regrets, If Possible! Those From Which The Sap Has Withdrawn. But, Good Lord, What Beautiful Colors!

Generally Among Intelligent People Are Found Nothing But Paralytics And Among Men Of Action Nothing But Fools.