Everything Is Change; And You Cannot Step

Clouds Of Black Birds Rose Up Wailing And Screaming, Like The Thoughts Of My Heart.

To Hate Excellence Is To Hate The Gods.

All Tragedies Deal With Fated Meetings; How Else Could There Be A Play? Fate Deals Its Stroke; Sorrow Is Purged, Or Turned To Rejoicing; There Is Death, Or Triumph; There Has Been A Meeting, And A Change. No One Will Ever Make A Tragedy - And That Is As Well, For One Could Not Bear It - Whose Grief Is That The Principals Never Met.

Miss Searle Had Always Considered Boredom An Intellectual Defeat.

It Gives Me No Joy To Be Praised At The Expense Of A Better Artist, By Someone Who Does Not Know The Difference Or Who Thinks Me Too Vain To Be Aware Of It Myself.