Night, a more perfect day.

Here in a little lonely room I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.

He knew that the whole mystery of beauty can never be comprehended by the crowd, and that while clearness is a virtue of style, perfect explicitness is not a necessary virtue.

It is in their eyes that their magic resides.

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!

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.