Always think of what is useful and not what is beautiful. Beauty will come of its own accord.

Ah, steeds, steeds, what steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Hearing the familiar song from above, all in one accord you strain your bronze chests and, hooves barely touching the ground, turn into straight lines cleaving the air, and all inspired by God it rushes on!

We ought to thank God for that. Yes, the man who tills the land is more worthy of respect than any.

But wise is the man who disdains no character, but with searching glance explores him to the root and cause of all.

In the end dreams became his life, and his whole life thereafter took a strange turn: one might say he slept while waking and watched while asleep.

Always think of what is useful and not what is beautiful. Beauty will come of its own accord.

They don’t listen to me, they don’t hear me, they don’t see me.