Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets food is love and fame.
Tragedy delights by affording a shadow of the pleasure which exists in pain.
Contemporary criticism only represents the amount of ignorance genius has to contend with. . . . Time will reverse the judgement of the vulgar.
All high poetry is infinite; it is as the first acorn, which contained all oaks potentially.
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
Concerning God, freewill and destiny: Of all that earth has been or yet may be, all that vain men imagine or believe, or hope can paint or suffering may achieve, we descanted.