Our Senses Don't Deceive Us: Our Judgment

I Treat My Heart Like A Sick Child And Gratify Its Every Fancy

Beauty And Genius Must Be Kept Afar If One Would Avoid Becoming Their Slave.

Modern Poets Mix Too Much Water With Their Ink. [ger., Neuere Poeten Thun Viel Wasser In Die Tinte.]

I Respect The Man Who Knows Distinctly What He Wants.

Every Great Idea Exerts, On First Appearing, A Tyrannical Influence: Hence, The Advantages It Brings Are Turned All Too Soon Into Disadvantages.