Art is man added to Nature.

The voice of the people has about it something divine: for how otherwise can so many heads agree together as one?

That things are changed, and that nothing really perishes, and that the sum of matter remains exactly the same, is sufficiently certain.

It's such an extraordinary supple medium that you never do quite know what paint will do.

Why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better than me?

A good conscience is a continual feast.

But men must know, that in this theatre of man's life it is reserved only for God and angels to be lookers on.