“Appeal made to artists. First of all move me, surprise me, rend my heart; make me tremble, weep, shudder; outrage me; delight my eyes afterwards if you can.”

Any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the delight, which any present or absent thing is apt to produce in him, has the idea we call love.

Energy is an eternal delight, and he who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.

Beauty is the bait which with delight allures man to enlarge his kind.