In the woods we return to reason and faith.

What can we see, read, acquire, but ourselves. Take the book, my friend, and read your eyes out, you will never find there what I find.

The universal soul is the alone creator of the useful and the beautiful; therefore to make anything useful or beautiful, the individual must be submitted to the universal mind.

I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me and the heart apoints.

In the vaunted works of Art, The master-stroke is Nature's part.

The love that you withhold is the pain that you carry.

In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.