That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.

To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.

You call it hope-that fire of fire! It is but agony of desire.

To observe attentively is to remember distinctly.

I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. "Death," I said, "any death but that of the pit!" Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me?

Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.

We loved with a love that was more than love.