The profoundest of all sensualities is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual experience is the sense of justice.

If you cut a thing up, of course it will smell. Hence, nothing raises such an infernal stink at last, as human psychology.

An artist is only an ordinary man with a greater potentiality--same stuff, same make up, only more force. And the strong driving force usually finds his weak spot, and he goes cranked, or goes under.

The war is dreadful. It is the business of the artist to follow it home to the heart of the individual fighters - not to talk in armies and nations and numbers - but to track it home.

One doesn't know, till one is a bit at odds with the world, how much one's friends who believe in one rather generously, mean to one.

The nice clean intimacy which we now so admire between the sexes is sterilizing. It makes neuters. Later on, no deep, magical sex-life is possible.

Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing.