After all, poets shouldn't be their own interpreters and shouldn't carefully dissect their poems into everyday prose; that would mean the end of being poets. Poets send their creations into the world, it is up to the reader, the aesthetician, and the critic to determine what they wanted to say with their creations.

All that is transitory is but a metaphor.

One must keep repeating the Truth.

In all our academies we attempt far too much. ... In earlier times lectures were delivered upon chemistry and botany as branches of medicine, and the medical student learned enough of them. Now, however, chemistry and botany are become sciences of themselves, incapable of comprehension by a hasty survey, and each demanding the study of a whole life, yet we expect the medical student to understand them. He who is prudent, accordingly declines all distracting claims upon his time, and limits himself to a single branch and becomes expert in one thing.

Error is to truth as sleep is to waking. I have observed that one turns, as if refreshed, from error back to truth.

Hatred is partial, but love is still more so.

Nature understands no jesting. She is always true, always serious, always severe. She is always right, and the errors are always those of man.