Old Men Ought To Be Explorers.

Desire Itself Is Movement Not In Itself Desirable; Love Is Itself Unmoving, Only The Cause And End Of Movement, Timeless, And Undesiring Except In The Aspect Of Time Caught In The Form Of Limitation Between Un-being And Being.

The Purpose Of Literature Is To Turn Blood Into Ink.

A Book Is Not Harmless Merely Because No One Is Consciously Offended By It.

There Is No Method But To Be Very Intelligent.

Can We Only Love Something Created In Our Own Imaginations?