The mind conceives with pain, but it brings forth with delight.
Monuments are the grappling-irons that bind one generation to another.
Luckily, I never feel at one time more than half my pains.
Nothing which does not transport is poetry. The lyre is a winged instrument.
I quit Paris unwillingly, because I must part from my friends; and I quit the country unwillingly, because I must part from myself.
The voice is a human sound which nothing inanimate can perfectly imitate. It has an authority and an insinuating property which writing lacks. It is not merely so much air, but air modulated and impregnated with life.