All art is the struggle to be, in a particular sort of way, virtuous.

My heart was beating like an army on the march.

Art is a kind of artificial memory and the pain which attends all serious art is a sense of that factitiousness.

Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea.

to be understood is not a human right. Even to understand oneself is not a human right.

It is difficult in life to be good, and difficult in art to portray goodness. Perhaps we don't know much about goodness.

There is a gulf fixed between those who can sleep and those who cannot. It is one of the greatest divisions of the human race.