Translate a book a dozen times from one language to another, and what becomes of its style? Most books would be worn out and disappear in this ordeal. The pen which wrote it is soon destroyed, but the poem survives.

But, commonly, men are as much afraid of love as of hate.

I fear that we are such gods or demigods only as fauns and satyrs, the divine allied to beasts, the creatures of appetite, and that, to some extent, our very life is our disgrace.

How shall we account for our pursuits, if they are original? We get the language with which to describe our various lives out of acommon mint.

The flowers of the apple are perhaps the most beautiful of any tree's, so copious and so delicious to both sight and scent.

The poet is no tender slip of fairy stock, who requires peculiar institutions and edicts for his defense, but the toughest son ofearth and of Heaven, and by his greater strength and endurance his fainting companions will recognize the God in him. It is the worshipers of beauty, after all, who have done the real pioneer work of the world.

How can we remember our ignorance, which our growth requires, when we are using our knowledge all the time?