The More You Approach Infinity, The Deeper

In Her Enthusiasms She Had Always Looked For Something Tangible: She Had Always Loved Church For Its Flowers, Music For Its Romantic Words, Literature For Its Power To Stir The Passions And She Rebelled Before The Mysteries Of Faith Just As She Grew Ever More Restive Under Discipline, Which Was Antipathetic To Her Nature.

He Had The Vanity To Believe Men Did Not Like Him – While Men Simply Did Not Know Him.

One Can Be The Master Of What One Does, But Never Of What One Feels.

A Good Sentence In Prose Should Be Like A Good Line In Poetry, Unchangeable, As Rhythmic, As Sonorous.

Reveal Art; Conceal The Artist.