He whom common, gross, or stale objects allure, and when obtained, content, is a vulgar being, incapable of greatness in thought or action.

The enemy of art is the enemy of nature; art is nothing but the highest sagacity and exertion of human nature; and what nature will he honour who honours not the human?

Dress is an index of your contents.

And still, laughter is akin to weeping.

He who goes round about in his requests wants commonly more than he chooses to appear to want.

The true friend of truth and good loves them under all forms, but he loves them most under the most simple form.

What is the elevation of the soul? A prompt, delicate, certain feeling for all that is beautiful, all that is grand; a quick resolution to do the greatest good by the smallest means; a great benevolence joined to a great strength and great humility.