The Thought Of What America Would Be

The Art Of Letters Will Come To An End Before A.d. 2000. I Shall Survive As A Curiosity.

What Thou Lovest Well Remains, The Rest Is Dross What Thou Lov’st Well Shall Not Be Reft From Thee What Thou Lov’st Well Is Thy True Heritage

The Intellect Is A Very Nice Whirligig Toy, But How People Take It Seriously Is More Than I Can Understand.

I Consider Criticism Merely A Preliminary Excitement, A Statement Of Things A Writer Has To Clear Up In His Own Head Sometime Or Other, Probably Antecedent To Writing; Of No Value Unless It Come To Fruit In The Created Work Later.

Gloom And Solemnity Are Entirely Out Of Place In Even The Most Rigorous Study Of An Art Originally Intended To Make Glad The Heart Of Man.