Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it$$$ a jealous$$$ possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly$$$ losing only a thing or two of no importance$$$ and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud...

Thou from this land$$$ I from myself am banish'd.

A poet can survive everything but a misprint.

To be really medieval one should have no body. To be really modern one should have no soul. To be really Greek one should have no clothes.

Alice: Is it because she's successful?<br>Dan: No. It's because... she doesn't need me.

Hans Castorp had found courage up here--if courage before the elements is defined not as a dull$$$ level-headed relationship with them$$$ but a conscious abandonment to them.

.. that language could but extol$$$ not reproduce$$$ the beauties of the sense.

But he discovered that his thoughts and inspirations were like the intimations of a dream$$$ which always seem inspired at the time but prove utterly shallow and useless to the waking mind.

Almost every artistic nature is born with a revealing connoisseurial tendency that appreciates injustice so long as it results in beauty and applauds$$$ even worships aristocratic privilege.

His steps were dictated by the demon who delights in destroying man's reason and dignity.