In the woods we return to reason and faith.

Every hero becomes a bore at last.

Let the river roll which way it will, cities will rise on its banks.

Perpetual modernness is the measure of merit, in every work of art; since the author of it was not misled by anything short- livedor local, but abode by real and abiding traits.

That which we do not call education is more precious than that which we call so.

No power of genius has ever yet had the smallest success in explaining existence. The perfect enigma remains.

The artists must be sacrificed to their art. Like the bees, they must put their lives into the sting they give.