Genius is seldom recognized for what it is: a great capacity for hard work.

The promise of this life is imperiled by the very genius that has made it possible.

One may certainly admire man as a mighty genius of construction, who succeeds in piling an infinitely complicated dome of concepts upon an unstable foundation, and, as it were, on running water.

A man of genius is unbearable, unless he possesses at least two things besides: gratitude and purity.

My genius is in my nostrils.

One must indeed be ignorant of the methods of genius to suppose that it allows itself to be cramped by forms.