Life without Love is as a flower without fragrance.
Art achieves all little things by absolute truth: but all her great things need some admixture of illusion.
Love is wont to visit Man in the company of Desire; but Woman by himself.
It is no wonder if Art frequently prefers Illusion to Truth: for Illusion is her servant, but Truth her mistress.
If Pity come as Pity, bid her stay; But if in guise of Love, chase her away.
Would the atheist continue such, let him beware how he admits Love into his breast: for God will surely come along with him.