Stupid — Well, There Are So Many

There Were Profound Reasons For His Attachment To The Sea: He Loved It Because As A Hardworking Artist He Needed Rest, Needed To Escape From The Demanding Complexity Of Phenomena And Lie Hidden On The Bosom Of The Simple And Tremendous; Because Of A Forbidden Longing Deep Within Him That Ran Quite Contrary To His Life's Task And Was For That Very Reason Seductive, A Longing For The Unarticulated And Immeasurable, For Eternity, For Nothingness. To Rest In The Arms Of Perfection Is The Desire Of Any Man Intent Upon Creating Excellence; And Is Not Nothingness A Form Of Perfection?

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

Every Reasonable Human Being Should Be A Moderate Socialist.

This Was Love At First Sight, Love Everlasting: A Feeling Unknown, Unhoped For, Unexpected--in So Far As It Could Be A Matter Of Conscious Awareness; It Took Entire Possession Of Him, And He Understood, With Joyous Amazement, That This Was For Life.

Only Love, And Not Reason, Yields Kind Thoughts.