The Causes Of Illusions Are Not Pretty

When She Had Gone Upstairs, He Walked To A Window And Stood Looking Up At The Sky. His Head Thrown Back, He Felt The Pull Of His Throat Muscles And He Wondered Whether The Peculiar Solemnity Of Looking At The Sky Comes, Not From What One Contemplates, But From That Uplift Of One's Head.

Now Take A Human Body. Why Wouldn't You Like To See A Human Body With A Curling Tail With A Crest Of Ostrich Feathers At The End? And With Ears Shaped Like Acanthus Leaves? It Would Be Ornamental, You Know, Instead Of The Stark, Bare Ugliness We Have Now. Well, Why Don't You Like The Idea? Because It Would Be Useless And Pointless. Because The Beauty Of The Human Body Is That Is Hasn't A Single Muscle Which Doesn't Serve Its Purpose; That There's Not A Line Wasted; That Every Detail Of It Fits One Idea, The Idea Of A Man And The Life Of A Man.

Productiveness Is Your Acceptance Of Morality, Your Recognition Of The Fact That You Choose To Live-that Productive Work Is The Process By Which Man's Consciousness Controls His Existence, A Constant Process Of Acquiring Knowledge And Shaping Matter To Fit One's Purpose, Of Translating An Idea Into Physical Form, Of Remaking The Earth In The Image Of One's Values-that All Work Is Creative Work If Done By A Thinking Mind.

I Loathe Your Ideals Because I Know No Worse Injustice Than The Giving Of The Undeserved.

There's Only One Passion In Most Artists More Violent Than Their Desire For Admiration: Their Fear Of Identifying The Nature Of Such Admiration As They Do Receive.