A man's style is his mind's voice. Wooden minds, wooden voices.
The question is whether [suicide] is the way out, or the way in.
For every grain of wit there is a grain of folly.
Underneath the inharmonious and trivial particulars, is a musical perfection, the Ideal journeying always with us, the heaven without rent or seam.
The secret of ugliness consists not in irregularity, but in being uninteresting.
Thought is the property of him who can entertain it, and of him who can adequately place it.