He Who Does Not Know

I Had Toward The Poetic Art A Peculiar Relation Which Was Only Practical After I Had Cherished In My Mind For A Long Time A Subject Which Possessed Me, A Model Which Inspired Me, A Predecessor Who Attracted Me, Until At Length, After I Had Molded It

True Works Of Art Are A Manifestation Of The Higher Laws Of Nature.

From Desire I Plunge To Its Fulfilment, Where I Long Once More For Desire.

A Man Does Not Mind Being Blamed For His Faults, And Being Punished For Them, And He Patiently Suffers Much For Them; But He Becomes Impatient If He Is Required To Give Them Up.

The Senses Do Not Deceive Us, But The Judgment Does.