The Air Grows Cool And Darkles, The

Nothing Is More Futile Than Theorizing About Music. No Doubt There Are Laws, Mathematically Strict Laws, But These Laws Are Not Music; They Are Only Its Conditions? The Essence Of Music Is Revelation.

True Eloquence Consists In Saying All That Is Necessary, And Nothing But What Is Necessary.

With The Rose The Butterfly's Deep In Love, A Thousand Times Hovering Round; But Round Himself, All Tender Like Gold, The Sun's Sweet Ray Is Hovering Found.

Religion Cannot Sink Lower Than When Somehow It Is Raised To A State Religion ... It Becomes Then An Avowed Mistress.

Where Books Are Burnt, Men Finish Up Being Burnt Too.