Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end.

To regard all things and principles of things as inconstant modes or fashions has more and more become the tendency of modern thought.

Art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass.

What we have to do is to be forever curiously testing new opinions and courting new impressions.

Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end.

Not to discriminate every moment some passionate attitude in those about us, and in the very brilliancy of their gifts some tragic dividing of forces on their ways, is, on this short day of frost and sun, to sleep before evening. With this sense of the splendour of our experience and of its awful brevity, gathering all we are into one desperate effort to see and touch, we shall hardly have time to make theories about the things we see and touch.

Has nature connected itself together by no bond, allowed itself to be thus crippled, and split into the divine and human elements? Well! there are certain divine powers of a middle nature, through whom our aspirations are conveyed to the gods, and theirs to us. A celestial ladder, a ladder from heaven to earth.