The Malicious Have A Dark Happiness.

A Tempest Ceases, A Cyclone Passes Over, A Wind Dies Down, A Broken Mast Can Be Replaced, A Leak Can Be Stopped, A Fire Extinguished, But What Will Become Of This Enormous Brute Of Bronze?

We Do Not Comprehend Everything, But We Insult Nothing.

My Misfortune Is That I Still Resemble A Man Too Much. I Should Liked To Be Wholly A Beast Like That Goat. - Quasimodo

He Reached For His Pocket, And Found There, Only Reality

The Drama Is Complete Poetry. The Ode And The Epic Contain It Only In Germ; It Contains Both Of Them In A State Of High Development, And Epitomizes Both.