Poetry is the disease of the brain.

What is the use of theorizing as to wherein lies the charm that moves us?

From this, without doubt, sprang the fable. Man created it thus, because it was not given him to see more than himself and nature, which surrounds him; but he created it true with a truth all its own.

The acts of the human race on the world's stage have doubtless a coherent unity, but the meaning of the vast tragedy enacted will be visible only to the eye of God, until the end, which will reveal it perhaps to the last man.

What is a great life if not a youthful idea executed by a man of mature years.

Of what use were the arts if they were only the reproduction and the imitation of life?

Every man has seen the wall that limits his mind.