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Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over our heads scarcely gray.

Jean Paul

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Jean Paul
Age: 62 †
Born: 1763
Born: March 21
Died: 1825
Died: November 14
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Johann Paul Friedrich Richter
Jean Paul Richter
Zhen Polʹ Friderik Rikhter
Jean Paul
Johann Paul Richter
Distance
Sorrow
Black
Look
Looks
Scarcely
Like
Sorrows
Gray
Heads

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Remembrances last longer than present realities.
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Only deeds give strength to life, only moderation gives it charm.
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Every friend is to the other a sun, and a sunflower also. He attracts and follows.
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If self-knowledge is the road to virtue, so is virtue still more the road to self-knowledge.
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The romance of life begins and ends with two blank pages. Age and extreme old age.
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Variety of mere nothings gives more pleasure than uniformity of something.
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The gymnasium of running, walking on stilts, climbing, etc. stells and makes hardy single powers and muscles, but dancing, like a corporeal poesy, embellishes, exercises, and equalizes all the muscles at once.
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The heart needs not for its heaven much space, nor many stars therein, if only the star of love has arisen.
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Art is indeed not the bread but the wine of life.
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It is easier and handier for men to flatter than to praise.
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Courage consists not in blindly overlooking danger, but in seeing it, and conquering it.
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Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another.
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Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.
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No heroine can create a hero through love of one, but she can give birth to one
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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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Repetition is the mother of education.
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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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The last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the kindliest soul, is tenderness toward the hard, forbearance toward the unforbearing, warmth of heart toward the cold, philanthropy toward the misanthropic.
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In women everything is heart, even the head.
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Paradise is always where love dwells.
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