New Arts Destroy The Old.

God Enters By A Private Door Into Every Individual.

Tragedy Is In The Eye Of The Observer, And Not In The Heart Of The Sufferer.

Character Is That Which Can Do Without Success.

Manners Are The Happy Ways Of Doing Things; Each One A Stroke Of Genius Or Of Love, Now Repeated And Hardened Into Usage, They Form At Last A Rich Varnish, With Which The Routine Of Life Is Washed, And Its Details Adorned. If They Are Superficial, So Are The Dew-drops Which Give Such A Depth To The Morning Meadows.

When Half-gods Go The Gods Arrive.