Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.
How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.
Youth condemns; maturity condones