Night, a more perfect day.
The mystic too full of God to speak intelligibly to the world.
Art begins when a man wishes to immortalize the most vivid moment he has ever lived.
The making of one's life into art is, after all, the first duty and privilege of every man.
Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice; How this one clings and how that uncloses From bud to flower in the way of roses.
Vaguely conscious of that great suspense in which we live, we find our escape from its sterile, annihilating reality in many dreams, in religion, passion, art.