It Is Love, Not Reason, That Is

Nothing Is More Curious And Awkward Than The Relationship Of Two People Who Only Know Each Other With Their Eyes — Who Meet And Observe Each Other Daily, Even Hourly And Who Keep Up The Impression Of Disinterest Either Because Of Morals Or Because Of A Mental Abnormality. Between Them There Is Listlessness And Pent-up Curiosity, The Hysteria Of An Unsatisfied, Unnaturally Suppressed Need For Communion And Also A Kind Of Tense Respect. Because Man Loves And Honors Man As Long As He Is Not Able To Judge Him, And Desire Is A Product Of Lacking Knowledge.

Time Cools, Time Clarifies; No Mood Can Be Maintained Quite Unaltered Through The Course Of Hours.

To Allow Only The Kind Of Art That The Average Man Understands Is The Worst Small-mindedness And The Murder Of Mind And Spirit. It Is My Conviction That The Intellect Can Be Certain That In Doing What Most Disconcerts The Crowd, In Pursuing The Most Daring, Unconventional Advances And Explorations, It Will In Some Highly Indirect Fashion Serve Man - And In The Long Run, All Men.

Art Is The Funnel, As It Were, Through Which Spirit Is Poured Into Life.

A Writer Is Somebody For Whom Writing Is More Difficult Than It Is For Other People.