One cares so little for the style in which one's praises are written.

He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime.

The essence of taste is suitability. Divest the word of its prim and priggish implications, and see how it expresses the mysterious demand of the eye and mind for symmetry, harmony and order.

Ah, the poverty, the miserable poverty, of any love that lies outside of marriage, of any love that is not a living together, a sharing of all!

What a shame it is for a nation to be developing without a sense of beauty, and eating bananas for breakfast.

Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.

Is there nowhere in an American house where one may be by one's self?