Masterpieces Are No More Than The Shipwrecked

If We Are To Make Reality Endurable, We Must All Nourish A Fantasy Or Two.

There Comes In All Our Lives A Time ... When The Ears Can Listen To No Music Save What The Moonlight Breathes Through The Flute Of Silence.

The Particulars Of Life Do Not Matter To The Artist; They Merely Provide Him With The Opportunity To Lay Bare His Genius.

In Reality, Every Reader Is, While Reading, The Reader Of His Own Self.

One Must Never Miss An Opportunity Of Quoting Things By Others Which Are Always More Interesting Than Those One Thinks Up Oneself.