Of what use were the arts if they were only the reproduction and the imitation of life?

But it is the province of religion, of philosophy, of pure poetry only, to go beyond life, beyond time, into eternity.

What is the use of theorizing as to wherein lies the charm that moves us?

Of what use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example of good or of evil?

The human mind, I believe, cares for the True only in the general character of an epoch.

On the day when man told the story of his life to man, history was born.