Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.

Invisible things are the only realities.

the truth is, I am heartily sick of this life & of the nineteenth century in general. (I am convinced that every thing is going wrong.)

From a proud tower in the town, Death looks gigantically down.

Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man.

The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil.