Night, a more perfect day.

The mystic too full of God to speak intelligibly to the world.

Art begins when a man wishes to immortalize the most vivid moment he has ever lived.

My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.

A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers; and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation.

Criticism is properly the rod of divination: a hazel switch for the discovery of buried treasure, not a birch twig for the castigation of offenders.

And I would have, now love is over, An end to all, an end: I cannot, having been your lover Stoop to become your friend!