What Is Either A Picture Or A

Life Is, In Fact, A Battle. Evil Is Insolent And Strong; Beauty Enchanting, But Rare; Goodness Very Apt To Be Weak; Folly Very Apt To Be Defiant; Wickedness To Carry The Day; Imbeciles To Be In Great Places, People Of Sense In Small, And Mankind Generally Unhappy. But The World As It Stands Is No Narrow Illusion, No Phantasm, No Evil Dream Of The Night; We Wake Up To It, Forever And Ever; And We Can Neither Forget It Nor Deny It Nor Dispense With It.

She Took Refuge On The Firm Ground Of Fiction, Through Which Indeed There Curled The Blue River Of Truth.

Ideas Are, In Truth, Force.

The Only Success Worth One's Powder Was Success In The Line Of One's Idiosyncrasy... What Was Talent But The Art Of Being Completely Whatever One Happened To Be?

I Hate American Simplicity. I Glory In The Piling Up Of Complications Of Every Sort. If I Could Pronounce The Name James In Any Different Or More Elaborate Way I Should Be In Favor Of Doing It.