Trust Love, nor fear to soar upon his track. The wings that bore to Heaven will bear thee back.

Art achieves all little things by absolute truth: but all her great things need some admixture of illusion.

Then is Love blest, when from the cup of the body he drinks the wine of the soul.

Thou canst not pray to God without praying to Love, but mayest pray to Love without praying to God.

It is no wonder if Art frequently prefers Illusion to Truth: for Illusion is her servant, but Truth her mistress.

Life without Love is as a flower without fragrance.

Wail not too wildly for expiring Love: The Love that dies was never quite alive.