There are people whose clocks stop at a certain point in their lives.

If I had a device, it would be the true, the true only, leaving the beautiful and the good to settle matters afterwards as best they could.

Nothing is more painful to me than the disdain with which people treat second-rate authors, as if there were room only for the first-raters.

There are people whose clocks stop at a certain point in their lives.

Despair itself if it goes on long enough, can become a kind of sanctuary in which one settles down and feels at ease.

In most men there exists a poet who died young, whom the man survived.

With everyone born human, a poet - an artist - is born, who dies young and who is survived by an adult.