Music is not a science any more than poetry is. It is a sublime instinct, like genius of all kinds.

Hypocrites weep, and you cannot tell their tears from those of saints; but no bad man ever laughed sweetly yet.

Charity is a flower not naturally of earthly growth, and it needs manuring with a promise of profit.

Histories in blazonry and poems in stone.

We do not want to think. We do not want to hear. We do not care about anything. Only give us a good dinner and plenty of money, and let us outshine our neighbors. There is the Nineteenth Century Gospel.

age is nothing but death that is conscious.

Honor is an old-world thing; but it smells sweet to those in whose hand it is strong.