...in Our Time Art Is Encrusted With

We All Reject Out Of Hand The Idea That The Love Of Our Life May Be Something Light Or Weightless; We Presume Our Love Is What Must Be, That Without It Our Life Would No Longer Be The Same; We Feel That Beethoven Himself, Gloomy And Awe-inspiring, Is Playing The “es Muss Sein!” To Our Own Great Love.

Let Us Consider The Critic, Therefore, As A Discoverer Of Discoveries.

A Man Able To Think Isn't Defeated - Even When He Is Defeated.

To Rebel Against Being Born A Woman Seemed As Foolish To Her As To Take Pride In It.

No Act Is Of Itself Either Good Or Bad. Only Its Place In The Order Of Things Makes It Good Or Bad.