If a writer wrote merely for his time, I would have to break my pen and throw it away.
Love is the foolishness of men, and the wisdom of God.
A few feet under the ground reigns so profound a silence, and yet so much tumult on the surface!
What is called honors and dignities, and even honor and dignity, is generally fool's gold.
Loving is half of believing.
Superstition, bigotry and prejudice, ghosts though they are, cling tenaciously to life; they are shades armed with tooth and claw. They must be grappled with unceasingly, for it is a fateful part of human destiny that it is condemned to wage perpetual war against ghosts. A shade is not easily taken by the throat and destroyed.
The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.
I write with one hand, but I fight with both.
Inspiration and genius -one and the same.
Style is the substance of the subject called unceasingly to the surface.
Woman, nude, is the blue sky. Clouds and garments are an obstacle to contemplation. Beauty and infinity would be gazed upon unveiled.
Monastic incarceration is castration.
A great artist is a great man in a great child.
You ask me what forces me to speak? a strange thing; my conscience.
One is not idle because one is absorbed. There is both visible and invisible labor. To contemplate is to toil, to think is to do. The crossed arms work, the clasped hands act. The eyes upturned to Heaven are an act of creation.
There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky; there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul.
As the purse is emptied, the heart is filled.
Excitement is not enjoyment: in calmness lies true pleasure. The most precious wines are sipped, not bolted at a swallow.
Night and the day, when united, Bring forth the beautiful light.
The day that a woman who is passing before you sheds a light upon you as she goes, you are lost, you love. You have then but one thing to do: to think of her so earnestly that she will be compelled to think of you.
Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. The nearer I approach the end, the plainer I hear around me the immortal symphonies of the worlds which invite me. . . . For half a century I have been writing thoughts in prose, verse, history, drama, romance, tradition, satire, ode, and song. I have tried them all, but I feel I have not said a thousandth part of that which is within me. When I go down to the grave, I can say "I have finished my day's work," but I cannot say "I have finished my life's work."
He sought...to transform the grief which looks down into the grave by showing it the grief which looks up to the stars.
Fame must have enemies, as light must have gnats.
Because one doesn't like the way things are is no reason to be unjust towards God.
Seeing so much poverty everywhere makes me think that God is not rich. He gives the appearance of it, but I suspect some financial difficulties.
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