If the individual, or heretic, gets hold of some essential truth, or sees some error in the system being practiced, he commits so many marginal errors himself that he is worn out before he can establish his point.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet black bough.

I dunno what my 23 infantile years in America signify. I left as soon as motion was autarchic -- I mean my motion.

Objectivity and again objectivity, and expression: no hindside-before-ness, no straddled adjectives (as "addled mosses dank"), no Tennysonianness of speech; nothing-nothing that you couldn't, in some circumstance, in the stress of some emotion, actually say.

And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass

Art is to be admired rather than explained. The jargon of these sculptors is beyond me. I do not precisely know why I admire a green granite, female, apparently pregnant monster with one eye going around a square corner.

A little light, like a rushlight / to lead back to splendour.