Thank God When He Oppresses You, And

Man's Highest Merit Always Is, As Much As Possible, To Rule External Circumstances And As Little As Possible To Let Himself Be Ruled By Them.

There Is But One Poetry,--true Poetry.

No Sacred Fane Requires Us To Submit To Insult.

Give Shape, Artist! Don't Talk! Your Poem Be But A Breath.

Fortunately, We Can Take In Only So Much Misfortune; What Exceeds That Limit Either Destroys Us Or Leaves Us Indifferent.