Virtue has a veil, vice a mask.

The aim of art is almost divine: to bring to life again if it is writing history, to create if it is writing poetry.

Crime is redeemed by remorse, but not by a blow of the axe or slipknot. Blood has to be washed by tears but not by blood.

There are many tongues to talk, and but few heads to think.

He had slipped, climbed, rolled, searched, walked, persevered, that is all. Such is the secret of all triumphs.

Stupidity talks, vanity acts.

The drama is complete poetry. The ode and the epic contain it only in germ; it contains both of them in a state of high development, and epitomizes both.