"True art is above false honor."

"This brand of paper (used by macaroon makers) was not only digestible but delicious."

"Solitude is the playfield of Satan."

"What!" cried Bretwit in candid surprise, "They know at home that His Majesty has left Zembla?"

"And there are things that are hard to talk about—you'll rub off their marvelous pollen at the touch of a word."

"What is this jest in majesty? This ass in passion? How do God and Devil combine to form a live dog?"

"Dark pictures, thrones, the stones that pilgrims kiss Poems that take a thousand years to die But ape the immortality…"

"To know that no one before you has seen an organ you are examining, to trace relationships that have occurred to no o…"

"The clumsiest literal translation is a thousand times more useful than the prettiest paraphrase."

"What is translation? On a platter A poet's pale and glaring head, A parrot's screech, a monkey's chatter, And profana…"