I have an habitual feeling of my real life having past, and that I am leading a posthumous existence.

The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.

Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.

A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.

I will clamber through the clouds and exist.

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man: He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span: He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings He furleth close; contented so to look On mists in idleness—to let fair things Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

Conversation is not a search after knowledge, but an endeavor at effect.