Ideas are infinite, original, and lively divine thoughts.

If the mystical lovers of the arts, who consider all criticism dissection and all dissection destruction of enjoyment, thought logically, an exclamation like "Goodness alive!" would be the best criticism of the most deserving work of art. There are critiques which say nothing but that, only they do so more extensively.

An artist is he for whom the goal and center of life is to form his mind.

All the classical genres are now ridiculous in their rigorous purity.

It is as deadly for a mind to have a system as to have none. Therefore it will have to decide to combine both.

The life and vigor of poetry consists of the fact that it steps out of itself, tears out a section of religion, then withdraws into itself to assimilate it. The same is true of philosophy.

Is it not superfluous to write more than one novel if the writer has not become, say, a new man? Obviously, all the novels of an author not infrequently belong together and are to a certain degree only one novel.