Literature could be said to be a sort of disciplined technique for arousing certain emotions.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

Moralistic is not moral. And as for truth -- well, it's like brown -- it's not in the spectrum. Truth is so generic.

Possibly, more people kill themselves and others out of hurt vanity than out of envy, jealousy, malice or desire for revenge.

All art is a struggle to be, in a particular sort of way, virtuous.

Art is the final cunning of the human soul which would rather do anything than face the gods.

No love is entirely without worth, even when the frivolous calls to the frivolous and the base to the base.

Perhaps misguided moral passion is better than confused indifference.

Being good is just a matter of temperament in the end.