It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now.

What critics often ask for is the impossible, though this may be a salutary means of extending the borders of art.

The practice of fiction can be dangerous: it puts ideas into the head of the world.

...the essential intention is the real sin. A man who cannot choose ceases to be a man.

This truth may be handled either sinfully or profitably; sinfully as when it is treated on only to satisfy curiosity, and to keep up a mere barren speculative dispute.... This point of election... is not to be agitated in a verbal and contentious way, but in a saving way, to make us tremble and to set us upon a more diligent and close striving with God in prayer, and all other duties.

I was cured all right.

Every grain of experience is food for the greedy growing soul of the artist.