Come My Little One, And Give Me

A Purpose You Impart Is No Longer Your Own.

All That Is Noble Is In Itself Of A Quiet Nature, And Appears To Sleep Until It Is Aroused And Summoned Forth By Contrast.

All Intelligent Thoughts Have Already Been Thought; What Is Necessary Is Only To Try To Think Them Again.

The Sickness Of The Heart Is Most Easily Got Rid Of By Complaining And Soothing Confidence.

Every Step Of Life Shows Much Caution Is Required.