The miracles of genius always rest on profound convictions which refuse to be analyzed.

Art should exhilarate, and throw down the walls of circumstance on every side, awakening in the beholder the same sense of universal relation and power which the work evinced in the artist.

The world globes itself in a drop of dew.

The method of nature: who could ever analyze it?

We see young men who owe us a new world, so readily and lavishly they promise, but they never acquit the debt; they die young anddodge the account: or if they live, they lose themselves in the crowd.

The lover of letters loves power too.

God hides things by putting them near us.