Gray is the color of all theory

Two souls dwell, alas! in my breast.

Every author in some way portrays himself in his works, even if it be against his will.

Let us not dream that reason can ever be popular. Passions, emotions, may be made popular; but reason remains ever the property of an elect few.

The work of art may have a moral effect, but to demand moral purpose from the artist is to make him ruin his work.

A life without love, without the presence of the beloved, is nothing but a mere magic-lantern show. We draw out slide after slide, swiftly tiring of each, and pushing it back to make haste for the next.

To act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our thought is troublesome.