The Mediator Of The Inexpressible Is The

It Is A Great Pleasure To Transport One's-self Into The Spirit Of The Times; To See How A Wise Man Has Thought Before Us, And To What A Glorious Height We Have At Last Carried It.

Pity On The Person Who Has Become Accustomed To Seeing In Necessity Something Arbitrary, Who Ascribes To The Arbitrary Some Sort Of Reason, And Even Claims That Following That Sort Of Reason Has Religious Value.

When Nature Begins To Reveal Her Open Secret To A Man, He Feels An Irresistible Longing For Her Worthiest Interpreter, Art.

The Work Of Art May Have A Moral Effect, But To Demand Moral Purpose From The Artist Is To Make Him Ruin His Work.

You Are Certainly Wrong To Compare Suicide ... With Great Accomplishments, Since It Cannot Be Considered As Anything But A Weakness. After All, It Is Easier To Die Than To Endure A Harrowing Life With Fortitude.