The arts must study their occasions; they must stand modestly aside until they can slip in fitly into the interstices of life.
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine By which alone the mortal heart is led Unto the thinking of the thought divine.
The soul, too has her virginity and must bleed a little before bearing fruit.
Depression is rage spread thin.
Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect...
It is one thing to lack a heart and another to possess eyes and a just imagination.