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

Hope is the biggest of our foolish things.

Invisible is real. Souls have their own world.

Just as we descend into our consciences to judge of actions which our minds can not weigh, can we not also search in ourselves for the feeling which gives birth to forms of thought, always vague and cloudy?

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

The true God, the mighty God, is the God of ideas.

The loveliest Muse in the world does not feed her owner; these girls make fine mistresses but terrible wives