The mediator of the inexpressible is the work of art.

The world is so full of simpletons and madmen, that one need not seek them in a madhouse.

Solitude is fine when you are at peace with yourself and have something definite to do.

We are so constituted that we believe the most incredible things; and, once they are engraved upon the memory, woe to him who would endeavor to erase them.

What sort of faults may we retain, nay, even cherish in ourselves? Those faults which are rather pleasant than offensive to others.

Music is so elevated that it is beyond the reach of intellect and there flows from it an influence which is all-potent, and which noone can explain.

Everyone is deceived in his hopes, cheated in his expectations.