The Highest Happiness, The Purest Joys Of

The Thinking Person Has The Strange Characteristic To Like To Create A Fantasy In The Place Of The Unsolved Problem, A Fantasy That Stays With The Person Even When The Problem Has Been Solved And Truth Made Its Appearance.

It Is With Art As With Love: How Can A Man Of The World,with All His Distractions, Keep The Inwardness Which An Artist Must Possess If He Hopes To Attain Perfection? That Inwardness Which The Spectator Must Share If He Is To Understand The Work As The Artist Wishes And Hopes... Believe Me, Talents Are Like Virtues; Either You Must Love Them For Their Own Sake Or Renounce Them Altogether. And They Are Only Recognized And Rewarded When We Have Practised Them In Secret, Like A Dangerous Mystery."

Those Who Make Use Of Devotion As A Means And End Generally Are Hypocrites.

I Do Not Now Begin, - I Still Adore Her Whom I Early Cherish'd In My Breast; Then Once Again With Prudence Dispossess'd, And To Whose Heart I'm Driven Back Once More. The Love Of Petrarch, That All-glorious Love, Was Unrequited, And, Alas, Full Sad.

No Sacred Fane Requires Us To Submit To Insult.