Poetry is enthusiasm with wings of fire; it is the angel of high thoughts, that inspires us with the power of sacrifice.

We form an association of brothers in all points of the globe ... yet there is one unseen that can hardly be felt, yet it weighs on us. Whence comes it? Where is it? No one knows ... or at least no one tells. This association is secret even to us the veterans of the Secret Societies.

Sorrow is not evil, since it stimulates and purifies.

Labor is the divine law of our existence.

The great men of the earth are but the marking-stones on the road of humanity; they are the priests of its religion.

The religion of humanity is love.

Each of us brings with him an element, more or less important, of the life of humanity to come.