Common Sense, In So Far As It

No Man Can Think Clearly When His Fists Are Clenched.

An Actor Without A Playwright Is Like A Hole Without A Doughnut.

There Is Something Distinguished About Even His Failures; They Sink Not Trivially, But With A Certain Air Of Majesty, Like A Great Ship, Its Flags Flying, Full Of Holes.

A Poet, Any Real Poet, Is Simply An Alchemist Who Transmutes His Cynicism Regarding Human Beings Into An Optimism Regarding The Moon, The Stars, The Heavens, And The Flowers, To Say Nothing Of Spring, Love, And Dogs.

It May Be Said That Artist And Censor Differ In This Wise: That The First Is A Decent Mind In An Indecent Body And That The Second Is An Indecent Mind In A Decent Body.