Another little drink wouldn't do us any harm.

Said the Sun to the Moon-'When you are but a lonely white crone, And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood, Remember only this of our hopeless love That never till Time is done Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one

Art is magic, not logic. This craze for the logical spirit in irrational shape is part of the present harmful mania for uniformity.

When we think of cruelty, we must try to remember the stupidity, the envy, the frustration from which it has arisen.

What the reporters are like! They are mad with excitement at the thought of my approaching demise. Kind Sister Farquhar, my nurse, spends much of her time in throwing them downstairs. But one got in the other day, and asked me if I mind the fact that I must die.

What an artist is for is to tell us what we see but do not know that we see.

Another little drink wouldn't do us any harm.