The bright dawn flooded the room, and swept the fantastic shadows into dusky corners, where they lay shuddering.
The poet is the supreme artist, for he is the master of colour and of form, and the real musician besides, and is lord over all life and all arts.
The only thing that can console one for being poor is extravagance.
The only sin is stupidity.
Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics!
He made me see what Life is, and what Death signifies, and why Love is stronger than both.