The Evening Of A Well Spent Youth

Imitate Time; It Destroys Everything Slowly; It Undermines, It Wears Away, It Detaches, It Does Not Wrench.

Nothing Which Does Not Transport Is Poetry. The Lyre Is A Winged Instrument.

A Work Is Perfectly Finished Only When Nothing Can Be Added To It And Nothing Taken Away.

Liquid, Flowing Words Are The Choicest And The Best, If Language Is Regarded As Music. But When It Is Considered As A Picture, Then There Are Rough Words Which Are Very Telling, They Make Their Mark.

Fully To Understand A Grand And Beautiful Thought Requires, Perhaps, As Much Time As To Conceive It.