To Be An Artist Is To Fail,

Any Mental Activity Is Easy If It Need Not Be Subjected To Reality.

I Had Long Since Given Up Trying To Extract From A Woman As It Were The Square Root Of Her Unknown Quantity, The Mystery Of Which A Mere Introduction Was Generally Enough To Dispel.

A Little Tap At The Window, As Though Some Missile Had Struck It, Followed By A Plentiful, Falling Sound, As Light, Though, As If A Shower Of Sand Were Being Sprinkled From A Window Overhead; Then The Fall Spread, Took On An Order, A Rhythm, Became Liquid, Loud, Drumming, Musical, Innumerable, Universal. It Was The Rain

Often It Is Just Lack Of Imagination That Keeps A Man From Suffering Very Much.

Always Try To Keep A Patch Of Sky Above Your Life.