The poet produces the beautiful by fixing his attention on something real.

The world is the closed door. It is a barrier. And at the same time it is the way through.

We cannot take a single step toward heaven. It is not in our power to travel in a vertical direction. If however we look heavenward for a long time, God comes and takes us up.

A hurtful act is the transference to others of the degradation which we bear in ourselves.

Punishment is a vital need of the human soul.

Evil is license, and that is why it is monotonous: everything has to be drawn from ourselves. One is condemned to false infinity. That is hell itself.

How many people have been thus led, through lack of self-confidence, to stifle their most justified doubts?