The Book Shd. Be A Ball Of

The Age Demanded An Image Of Its Accelerated Grimace, Something For The Modern Stage, Not, At Any Rate, An Attic Grace.

Science Is Unpoetic Only To Minds Jaundiced With Sentiment And Romanticism . . . The Great Masters Of The Past Boasted All They Could Of It And Found It Magical.

It Is The Business Of The Artist To Make Humanity Aware Of Itself.

There Are Few Things More Difficult Than To Appraise The Work Of A Man Suddenly Dead In His Youth; To Disentangle Promise From Achievement; To Save Him From That Sentimentalizing Which Confuses The Tragedy Of The Interruption With The Merit Of The Work Actually Performed.

The History Of An Art Is The History Of Masterwork, Not Of Failures, Or Mediocrity.