Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.

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To move, to breathe, to fly, to float, To gain all while you give, To roam the roads of lands remote, To travel is to live

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The sun shines upon good and bad alike.

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Well, yes: people write poems when they are in love, but a wise man will not print them.

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To be of use to the world is the only way to be happy.

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Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars.

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We cannot expect to be happy always ... by experiencing evil as well as good we become wise.

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‎"Does all the beauty of the world stop when you die?" "No," said the Old Oak; "it will last much longer - longer than I can even think of." "Well, then," said the little May-fly, "we have the same time to live; only we reckon differently.

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But shouldn't all of us on earth give the best we have to others and offer whatever is in our power?

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Nothing is too high for a man to reach, but he must climb with care and confidence

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