Poetry is the attempt which man makes to render his existence harmonious.
My books are friends that never fail me.
He that has a secret should not only hide it, but hide that he has it to hide.
O thou who art able to write a book which once in the two centuries or oftener there is a man gifted to do, envy not him whom they name city-builder, and inexpressibly pity him whom they name conqueror or city-burner.
O poor mortals, how ye make this earth bitter for each other.
Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness.