“To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June.”

“He walked on in silence, the solitary sound of his footsteps echoing in his head, as in a deserted street, at dawn. His solitude was so complete, beneath a lovely sky as mellow and serene as a good conscience, amid that busy throng, that he was amazed at his own existence; he must be somebody else's nightmare, and whoever it was would certainly awaken soon.”

“Wer nicht zuweilen zu viel empfindet, der empfindet immer zu wenig.”

“Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.”

“How alone everyone is in the vast tomb of the universe!”

“On the church vaulting above was the clock-face of eternity, void of number and serving as its own hand, only one black finger was pointing and the dead wanted to tell the time by it.”

“A man never describes his own character so clearly as when he describes another.”