The human soul needs actual beauty even more than bread.
Any novel of importance has a purpose. If only the "purpose" be large enough, and not at outs with the passional inspiration.
Sleep seems to hammer out for me the logical conclusions of my vague days, and offer them to me as dreams.
Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken.
It's not art for art's sake, it's art for my sake.
It is so much more difficult to live with one's body than with one's soul. One's body is so much more exacting: what it won't have it won't have, and nothing can make bitter into sweet.