All progress in literary style lies in the heroic resolve to cast aside accretions and exuberances, all the conventions of a past age that were once beautiful because alive and are now false because dead.

Imagination is a poor substitute for experience.

The sun, the moon and the stars would have disappeared long ago... had they happened to be within the reach of predatory human hands.

When love is suppressed hate takes its place.

Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretence of keeping it alive.

Dancing is the loftiest, the most moving, the most beautiful of the arts, because it is no mere translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself.

In philosophy, it is not the attainment of the goal that matters, it is the things that are met with by the way