Hearts that are delicate and kind and tongues that are neither - these make the finest company in the world.
We should nourish our souls on the dew of Poesy, and manure them as well.
One can be bored until boredom becomes a mystical experience.
An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.
How it infuriates a bigot, when he is forced to drag out his dark convictions!
Don't laugh at youth for his affectations; he is only trying on one face after another to find his own.