Explaining something makes it go away, so to speak; what's important is left after you have explained everything else.

Some tiny creature, mad with wrath, is coming nearer on the path.

The world may think it idiotic, Nor care at all we're symbiotic, But I will say at once and twice: I find it nice. I find it nice.

If you're doing nonsense it has to be rather awful, because there'd be no point.

If something doesn't creep into a drawing that you're not prepared for, you might as well not have drawn it.

Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.

All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.