Ports are necessities, like postage stamps or soap, but they seldom seem to care what impressions they make.
Someone loves us all.
The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.
Insomnia" perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.
What one seems to want in art, in experiencing it, is the same thing that is necessary for its creation, a self-forgetful, perfectly useless concentration.
Why shouldn't we, so generally addicted to the gigantic, at last have some small works of art, some short poems, short pieces of music [...], some intimate, low-voiced, and delicate things in our mostly huge and roaring, glaring world?