Christ rode on an ass, but now asses ride on Christ.

This was but a prelude; where books are burnt human-beings will be burnt in the end

Our souls must become expanded by the contemplation of Nature's grandeur, before we can fully comprehend the greatness of man.

The great pulsation of nature beats too in my breast, and when I carol aloud, I am answered by a thousand-fold echo. I hear a thousand nightingales. Spring hath sent them to awaken Earth from her morning slumber, and Earth trembles with ecstasy, her flowers are hymns, which she sings in inspiration to the sun.

At first I was almost about to despair, I thought I never could bear it — but I did I bear it. The question remains: how?

Reason exercises merely the function of preserving order, is, so to say, the police in the region of art. In life it is mostly a cold arithmetician summing up our follies.

The cloudlets are lazily sailing O'er the blue Atlantic sea; And mid the twilight there hovers A shadowy figure o'er me.