How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right expression.

Now go away then, and leave me alone. I don't want any more of your meretricious persiflage.

Men are freest when they are most unconscious of freedom. The shout is a rattling of chains, always was.

In America the cohesion was a matter of choice and will. But in Europe it was organic.

The novel is the one bright book of life. Books are not life. They are only tremulations on the ether. But the novel as a tremulation can make the whole man alive tremble.

I have lived among enough painters and around studios to have had all the theories - and how contradictory they are - rammed down my throat. A man has to have a gizzard like an ostrich to digest all the brass-tacks and wire nails of modern art theories.

I believe that there was a great age, a great epoch when man did not make war: previous to 2000 B.C. Then the self had not reallybecome aware of itself, it had not separated itself off, the spirit was not yet born, so there was no internal conflict, and hence no permanent external conflict.