Max Muller

Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older.

Thus one memory follows another until the waves dash together over our heads, and a deep sigh swells the breast, which warns us that we have forgotten to breathe in the midst of these pure thoughts.

Not far from our house, and opposite the old church with the golden cross, stood a large building, even larger than the church, and having many towers.

I was so astonished that another had penetrated so deeply into the secrets of my soul, and that he knew what I did not know myself, that when I recovered from it he had already been long upon the street.

That is the returning to God which in reality is never concluded on earth but yet leaves behind in the soul a divine home sickness, which never again ceases.

Would not the child's heart break in despair when the first cold storm of the world sweeps over it, if the warm sunlight of love from the eyes of mother and father did not shine upon him like the soft reflection of divine light and love?

Yes, now I understood for the first time that my soul was not so poor and empty as it had seemed to me, and that it had been only the sun that was lacking to open all its germs, and buds to the light.

Whoever knows it also knows that in love there is no More and no Less; but that he who loves can only love with the whole heart, and with the whole soul; with all his strength and with all his will.

The spring of love becomes hidden and soon filled up.

A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love.

Every life has its years in which one progresses as on a tedious and dusty street of poplars, without caring to know where he is.

While the river of life glides along smoothly, it remains the same river; only the landscape on either bank seems to change.