The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.

Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.

As I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity, I collected some of their Proverbs.

I see through my eyes, not with them.

Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!

God appears, and God is Light, to those poor souls who dwell in Night; but does a Human Form display to those who dwell in realms of Day.

Embraces are comminglings from the head even to the feet, And not a pompous high priest entering by a secret place.