Every dogma has its day, but ideals are eternal.

Editors are constantly on the watch to discover new talents in old names.

Everything changes but change

[T]he German censorship forbade or mutilated my every book, which was like sticking pins into my soul.

In the din and tumult of the age, the still small voice of Jerusalem remains our only music.

I hate French poetry. What measured glitter!

You, the Spirit of the Settlement! ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming! Here, you stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries.