In cheerful souls there is no wit. Wit shows a disturbance of the equipoise.
Only an artist can interpret the meaning of life.
Hypotheses are nets: only he who casts will catch.
The seat of the soul is where the inner world and the outer world meet. Where they overlap, it is in every point of the overlap.
The true Poet is all-knowing; he is an actual world in miniature.
Many books are longer than they seem. They have indeed no end. The boredom that they cause is truly absolute and infinite.