The ordinary true, or purely real, cannot be the object of the arts. Illusion on a ground of truth,--that is the secret of the fine arts.

There are some heads which have no windows, and the day can never strike from above; nothing enters from heavenard.

A fluent writer always seems more talented than he is. To write well, one needs a natural felicity and an acquired difficulty.

Whence? wither? why? how? - these questions cover all philosophy.

The soul paints itself in our machines.

Only just the right quantum of wit should be put into a book; in conversation a little excess is allowable.

Poetry is to be found nowhere unless we carry it within us.