The Actions Of A Human Being, Even

The Richness And Endless Variety Of Human Relationships ... That's What Authors, Even The Finest And Greatest, Only Succeed In Hinting At. It's A Hopeless Business, Like Trying To Dip Up The Ocean With A Tea-spoon.

Gossip ... Is Only Fiction Produced By Non-professionals.

It Is Not Good For All Our Wishes To Be Filled; Through Sickness We Recognize The Value Of Health; Through Evil, The Value Of Good; Through Hunger, The Value Of Food; Through Exertion, The Value Of Rest.

What A Fearfully Distracting, Perplexing And Heart-searching Business It Is To Live.

One Reason We Haven't Any National Art Is Because We Have Too Much Magnificence. All Our Capacity For Admiration Is Used Up On The Splendor Of Palace-like Railway Stations And Hotels. Our National Tympanum Is So Deafened By That Blare Of Sumptuousness That We Have No Ears For The Still, Small Voice Of Beauty.