The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.
If there is any difficulty in what I write, it is because of the material I use. The thought is always simple.
My mouth is full of decayed teeth and my soul of decayed ambitions.
A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk.
The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.
Redheaded women buck like goats.