resignation, perhaps the most stifling word in the language.

... the mere thought of going near a man who is not mellowly pickled, and whose breath reeks of his native fleshy self, is squeamishly unpalatable to me.

There is a brotherliness about a drinking person, which is coldly lacking in the straight and narrow enemies of drink; the difference between the two is more marked than nationality or belief: it is an opposite species altogether. It is against the unwritten laws of congeniality for them to mix. For me, a man who does not drink is distinctly indecent.

There is a great gulf between the really creative person and normal people. The totally creative person does not have the rest of his life in proper proportion.

The wretched Artist himself is alternatively the lowest worm that ever crawled when no fire is in him; or the loftiest God that ever sand when the fire is going.

In America they make too much fuss of poets; in London they make too little.

When the desire is on for one particular person, nobody else will do.