It hinders the creative work of the mind if the intellect examines too closely the ideas as they pour in.

To rankling poison hast thou turned in me the milk of human kindness.

Rigor pushed too far is sure to miss its aim, however good, as the bow snaps that is bent too stiffly.

In the case of a creative mind, it seems to me, the intellect has withdrawn its watchers from the gates, and the ideas rush in pell-mell and only then does it review and inspect the multitudes.

What is life without the radiance of love?

If you cannot please everyone with your deeds and your art, please a few. To please many is bad.

The May of life blooms once and never again.