All Art Constantly Aspires Towards The Condition

What We Have To Do Is To Be Forever Curiously Testing New Opinions And Courting New Impressions.

To Burn Always With This Hard, Gem-like Flame, To Maintain This Ecstasy, Is Success In Life.

Not To Discriminate Every Moment Some Passionate Attitude In Those About Us, And In The Very Brilliancy Of Their Gifts Some Tragic Dividing Of Forces On Their Ways, Is, On This Short Day Of Frost And Sun, To Sleep Before Evening. With This Sense Of The Splendour Of Our Experience And Of Its Awful Brevity, Gathering All We Are Into One Desperate Effort To See And Touch, We Shall Hardly Have Time To Make Theories About The Things We See And Touch.

Why Do You Always Write Poetry? Why Do You Not Write Prose? Prose Is So Much More Difficult.

To The Modern Spirit Nothing Is, Or Can Be Rightly Known, Except Relatively And Under Conditions.