it is all the question of identity. ... As long as the outside does not put a value on you it remains outside but when it does put a value on you then it gets inside or rather if the outside puts a value on you then all your inside gets to be outside.

Since the war nothing is so really frightening not the dark not alone in a room or anything on a road or a dog or a moon but two things, yes, indigestion and high places they are frightening.

One must either accept some theory or else believe one's own instinct or follow the world's opinion.

No one is ahead of his time, it is only that the particular variety of creating his time is the one that his contemporaries who are also creating their own time refuse to accept. For a very long time everybody refuses and then almost without a pause almost everybody accepts. In the history of the refused in the arts and literature the rapidity of the change is always startling.

There is no there there.

Name any name and then remember everybody you ever knew who bore that name. Are they all alike. I think so.

There is no pulse so sure of the state of a nation as its characteristic art product which has nothing to do with its material life.