All Great Art Contains An Element Of

The Public Will Believe Anything, So Long As It Is Not Founded On Truth.

The Great Sins And Fires Break Out Of Me Like The Terrible Leaves From The Bough In The Violent Spring. I Am A Walking Fire, I Am All Leaves.

The Child And The Great Artist -- These Alone Receive The Sensation Fresh As It Was At The Beginning Of The World.

It Is Part Of The Poet's Work To Show Each Man What He Sees But Does Not Know He Sees.

The Last Faint Spark In The Self-murdered Heart, The Wounds Of The Sad Uncomprehending Dark, The Wounds Of The Baited Bear,-- The Blind And Weeping Bear Whom The Keepers Beat On His Helpless Flesh . . . The Tears Of The Hunted Hare.