. . . until the curtain was rung down on the last act of the drama (and it might have no last act!) he wished the intellectual cripples and the moral hunchbacks not to be jeered at; perhaps they might turn out to be the heroes of the play.

Beauty as we feel it is something indescribable; what it is or what it means can never be said.

To turn events into ideas is the function of literature.

Chaos is perhaps at the bottom of everything.

Nothing so much enhances a good as to make sacrifices for it.

The combative instinct is a savage prompting by which one man's good is found in another's evil.

A child educated only at school is an uneducated child.