It Was As Dark As The Inside

Life Would Die Without Poets, And Democracy Must Have Its Spellbinders.

People Don't Use Their Eyes. They Never See A Bird, They See A Sparrow. They Never See A Tree, They See A Birch. They See Concepts.

A Friend Of Mine Tells Me That A Beethoven Symphony Can Solve For Him A Problem Of Conduct. I've No Doubt That It Does So Simply By Giving Him A Sense Of The Tragedy And The Greatness Of Human Destiny, Which Makes His Personal Anxieties Seem Small, Which Throws Them Into A New Proportion.

For The Essential Thing About The Work Of Art Is That It Is Work, And Very Hard Work Too.

I Had Come At Last And My Heart Was Beating Again Strongly To A Heart That Could Not Know Despair Because It Forgot Itself In The Duty Of Its Love.