Rigor pushed too far is sure to miss its aim, however good, as the bow snaps that is bent too stiffly.
Even now, nature is the only flame, on which the poetic spirit feeds; from it alone it draws all its power, to it alone it speaks even in the artificial, in the man engaged in culture.
Illusion is brief, but repentance is long.
Arrow-swift the present sweepeth, and motionless forever stands the past.
Man is never so authentically himself as when at play.
It is easy to give advice from a port of safety.