If I accept you as you are, I will make you worse; however, if I treat you as though you are what you are capable of becoming, I help you become that.

I treat my heart like a sick child and gratify its every fancy

Classicism is health, romanticisim is sickness.

Woe to falsehood! it affords no relief to the breast, like truth; it gives us no comfort, pains him who forges it, and like an arrow directed by a god flies back and wounds the archer.

Nothing is more consonant with Nature than that she puts into operation in the smallest detail that which she intends as a whole.

When you praise someone you call yourself his equal.

Deny yourself! You must deny yourself! That is the song that never ends.