Genius is only childhood recovered at will, childhood now gifted to express itself with the faculties of manhood and with the analytic mind that allows him to give order to the heap of unwittingly hoarded material.

Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.

Genius is childhood recovered at will.

Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

Genius is nothing but youth recaptured at will.

Genius: the ability to prolong one's childhood.

Genius is the ability to put into effect what is on your mind.

Genius is the ability to see things invisible, to manipulate things intangible, to paint things that have no features.

Genius, as we tend to talk about it today, is some sort of mysterious and combustible substance that burns brightly and burns out. It's the strange gift of poets and pop stars that allows them to produce one wonderful work in their early twenties and then nothing. It is mysterious. It is there. It is gone.

Genius is but the free and harmonious play of all the faculties of a human being.

Genius is supposed to be a power of producing excellencies, which are out of the reach of the rules of art; a power which no precepts can teach, and which no industry can acquire.

Genius is not a single power, but a combination of great powers. It reasons, but it is not reasoning; it judges, but it is not judgment; it imagines, but it is not imagination; it feels deeply and fiercely, but it is not passion. It is neither, because it is all. It is another name for the perfection of human nature, for Genius is not a fact but an ideal. It is nothing less than the possession of all the powers and impulses of humanity, in their greatest possible strength and most harmonious combination; and the genius of any particular man is great in proportion as he approaches this ideal of universal genius.

Genius is the ability to look at things simply.

Genius is the aptitude for seeing invisible things, for stirring intangible things, for painting things that have no features.