Do you not see with your own eyes the chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction?

Art ought never to be considered except in its relations with its ideal beauty.

Fainthearted animals move about in herds. The lion walks alone in the desert. Let the poet always walk thus.

What is a great life? It is the dreams of youth realised in old age.

Of what use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example of good or of evil?

But it is the province of religion, of philosophy, of pure poetry only, to go beyond life, beyond time, into eternity.

Perform your long and heavy task with energy, treading the path to which Fate has been pleased to call you.