Glance Is The Enemy Of Vision.

There Is No Reason Why The Same Man Should Like The Same Books At Eighteen And At Forty-eight

Quiet This Metal! Let The Manes Put Off Their Terror, Let Them Put Off Their Aqueous Bodies With Fire. Let Them Assume The Milk-white Bodies Of Agate. Let Them Draw Together The Bones Of The Metal.

I Consider Criticism Merely A Preliminary Excitement, A Statement Of Things A Writer Has To Clear Up In His Own Head Sometime Or Other, Probably Antecedent To Writing; Of No Value Unless It Come To Fruit In The Created Work Later.

Any Damn Fool Can Be Spontaneous.

The Real Trouble With War (modern War) Is That It Gives No One A Chance To Kill The Right People.