There is no such thing as a lovers' oath.
Much sleep is not required by nature, either for our souls or bodies, or for the action in which they are concerned.
He who without the Muse's madness in his soul comes knocking at the door of poesy and thinks that art will make him anything fit to be called a poet, finds that the poetry which he indites in his sober senses is beaten hollow by the poetry of madmen.
Do not use compulsion, but let early education be rather a sort of amusement.
The soul is like a pair of winged horses and a charioteer joined in natural union.
Better a good enemy than a bad friend.