All Art Constantly Aspires Towards The Condition

In A Sense It Might Even Be Said That Our Failure Is To Form Habits: For, After All, Habit Is Relative To A Stereotyped World, And Meantime It Is Only The Roughness Of The Eye That Makes Two Persons, Things, Situations, Seem Alike.

Why Do You Always Write Poetry? Why Do You Not Write Prose? Prose Is So Much More Difficult.

Books Are A Refuge, A Sort Of Cloistral Refuge, From The Vulgarities Of The Actual World.

Product Of A Myriad Various Minds And Contending Tongues, Compact Of Obscure And Minute Association, A Language Has Its Own Abundant And Often Recondite Laws, In The Habitual And Summary Recognition Of Which Scholarship Consists.

We Need Some Imaginative Stimulus, Some Not Impossible Ideal Such As May Shape Vague Hope, And Transform It Into Effective Desire, To Carry Us Year After Year, Without Disgust, Through The Routine-work Which Is So Large A Part Of Life.