When a man cuts himself absolutely adrift from custom, what an astonishingly light spar floats him! How few his wants are, after all!
Rome is one enormous mausoleum. There, the Past lies visibly stretched upon his bier. There is no today or tomorrow in Rome; it is perpetual yesterday.
True art selects and paraphrases, but seldom gives a verbatim translation.
The man who suspects his own tediousness is yet to be born.
To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent - that is to triumph over old age.
Conservatism and respectability have their values, certainly; but has not the unconventional its values also?
