Romanticism Is Beauty Without Bounds-the Beautiful Infinite.

Variety Of Mere Nothings Gives More Pleasure Than Uniformity Of Something.

Humankind's Chief Fault Is That They Have So Many Small Ones.

Man's Feelings Are Always Purest And Most Glowing In The Hour Of Meeting And Of Farewell.

For The Infinite Has Sowed His Name In The Heavens In Burning Stars, But On The Earth He Has Sowed His Name In Tender Flowers.

If Self-knowledge Is The Road To Virtue, So Is Virtue Still More The Road To Self-knowledge.