Poetry is an attenuation, a rehandling, an echo of crude experience; it is itself a theoretic vision of things at arm's length.

Beautiful things, when taste is formed, are obviously and unaccountably beautiful.

Prayer, among sane people, has never superseded practical efforts to secure the desired end.

We are not compelled in naturalism, or even in materialism, to ignore immaterial things; the point is that any immaterial things which are recognized shall be regarded as names, aspects, functions, or concomitant products of those physical things among which action goes on.

Culture is on the horns of this dilemma: if profound and noble it must remain rare, if common it must become mean.

Beauty is a pledge of the possible conformity between the soul and nature, and consequently a ground of faith in the supremacy of the good.

The Fates, like an absent-minded printer, seldom allow a single line to stand perfect and unmarred.