Why should we grope among the dry bones of the past, or put the living generation into masquerade out of its faded wardrobe?

One more royal trait properly belongs to the poet. I mean his cheerfulness, without which no man can be a poet,--for beauty is his aim. He loves virtue, not for its obligation, but for its grace; he delights in the world, in man, in woman, for the lovely light that sparkles from them. Beauty, the spirit of joy and hilarity, he sheds over the universe.

Art is a jealous mistress; and if a man have a genius for painting, poetry, music, architecture or philosophy, he makes a bad husband and an ill provider.

We are as much informed of a writer's genius by what he selects as by what he originates.

A man is a hero, not because he is braver than anyone else, but because he is brave for 10 minutes longer.

If, at any time, it comes into my head, that a present is due from me to somebody, I am puzzled what to give, until the opportunity is gone.

The dead sleep in their moonless night; my business is with the living.