Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

To talk well and eloquently is a very great art, but that an equally great one is to know the right moment to stop.

The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.

What's even worse than a flute? - Two flutes!

If you would dance, my pretty Count, I'll play the tune on my little guitar..

You know that I immerse myself in music, so to speak— that I think about it all day long— that I like experimenting— studying— reflecting.

I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings.

Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love love love that is the soul of genius.

I write as a sow piddles.

We live in this world in order always to learn industriously and to enlighten each other by means of discussion and to strive vigorously to promote the progress of science and the fine arts.

I thank my God for graciously granting me the opportunity of learning that death is the key which unlocks the door to our true happiness.

A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.

You can't move things by not moving.

I have an independent streak. You know, it's kind of hard to tell a independent woman what to do.

CAFE is like trying to cure obesity by requiring clothing manufacturers to make smaller sizes.

Liberal politics meant the politics of common-sense.

Practical atheism, seeing no guidance for human affairs but its own limited foresight, endeavors itself to play the god, and decide what will be good for mankind and what bad.

It is a strange thing to read a letter after the writer is dead - a bitter-sweet thing, in which pain and comfort are strangely mingled.

No man alive can say, This shall not happen to me.

Indoors or out, no one relaxes In March, that month of wind and taxes, The wind will presently disappear, The taxes last us all the year.

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?