You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come; Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius; without taste, genius is only sublime folly.

Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image …

A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.