Utility is the great idol of the age, to which all powers must do service and all talents swear allegiance. In this great balance of utility, the spiritual service of art has no weight, and, deprived of all encouragement, it vanishes from the noisy Vanity Fair of our time.

Where there is much freedom there is much error.

Even weak men when united are powerful.

The greater part of humanity is too much harassed and fatigued by the struggle with want, to rally itself for a new and sterner struggle with error.

Why should I deem myself to be a chisel, when I could be the artist?

Worthless is the nation that does not gladly stake its all on its honor.

The mind is the eyesight of the soul.