When we argue for our limitations, we get to keep them.
Anyone could write a novel given six weeks, pen paper, and no telephone or wife.
There is something incomparably thrilling in first opening a brand new book.
There is an Easter sense in which all things are made new in the risen Christ. A tiny gleam of this is reflected in all true art.
O God, make me good, but not yet.
At first it was impressive, but after half and hour deadly monotonous. It was like everything German - overdone.