Nature is a temple, where the living Columns sometimes breathe confusing speech; Man walks within these groves of symbols, each Of which regards him as a kindred thing.

One can only forget about time by making use of it.

I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.

Oh, Creator! Can monsters exist in the sight of him who alone knows how they were invented, how they invented themselves, and how they might not have invented themselves?

For the merchant, even honesty is a financial speculation.

Nothing can be done except little by little.

For me, Romanticism is the most recent and the most current expression of beauty.