The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.

If you shut up truth and bury it under the ground, it will but grow, and gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through it will blow up everything in its way.

Sin ought to be something exquisite, my dear boy.

There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.

Don't go looking at me like that because you'll wear your eyes out.

The fate of animals is of greater importance to me than the fear of appearing ridiculous; it is indissolubly connected with the fate of men.

The conclusion does not belong to the artist.