Jean Paul Quotes
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Variety of mere nothings gives more pleasure than uniformity of something.
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It is simpler and easier to flatter people than to praise them.
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Two aged men, that had been foes for life, Met by a grave, and wept - and in those tears They washed away the memory of their strife; Then wept again the loss of all those years.
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The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering galleries, they are clearly heard at the end, and by posterity.
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Never part without loving words to think of during your absence. It may be that you will not meet again in this life.
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Beauty attracts us men; but if, like an armed magnet it is pointed, beside, with gold and silver, it attracts with tenfold power.
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Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another.
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Strong characters are brought out by change of situation, and gentle ones by permanence.
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We learn our virtues from our friends who love us; our faults from the enemy who hates us. We cannot easily discover our real character from a friend. He is a mirror, on which the warmth of our breath impedes the clearness of the reflection.
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For sleep, riches and health to be truly enjoyed, they must be interrupted.
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Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest.
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Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immortality.
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Whenever, at a party, I have been in the mood to study fools, I have always looked for a great beauty: they always gather round her like flies around a fruit stall.
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Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.
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Joy descends gently upon us like the evening dew, and does not patter down like a hailstorm.
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Every man regards his own life as the New Year's Eve of time.
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Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.
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A man never discloses his own character so clearly as when he describes anothers.
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The miracle on earth are the laws of heaven.
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The virtues, like the body,become strong more by labor than by nourishment.
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God is an unutterable sigh, planted in the depths of the soul.
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What makes old age so sad is not that our joys but our hopes cease.
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Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?
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The darkness of death is like the evening twilight; it makes all objects appear more lovely to the dying.