The flavors of the peach and the apricot are not lost from generation to generation. Neither are they transmitted by book learning.

The only history that matters is the history we know.

Nothing written for pay is worth printing. Only what has been written against the market.

The difference between a gun and a tree is a difference of tempo. The tree explodes every spring.

The man of understanding can no more sit quiet and resigned while his country lets its literature decay, and lets good writing meet with contempt, than a good doctor could sit quiet and contented while some ignorant child was infecting itself with tuberculosis under the impression that it was merely eating jam tarts.

The flavors of the peach and the apricot are not lost from generation to generation. Neither are they transmitted by book learning.

It is more than likely that the brain itself is, in origin and development, only a sort of great clot of genital fluid held in suspense or reserved. This hypothesis would explain the enormous content of the brain as a maker or presenter of images.