The artist in his calling of interpreter creates because he must. He is so much of a voice that, for him, silence is like death

I suppose everybody must be always just a little homesick.

It is not the clear-sighted who rule the world. Great achievements are accomplished in a blessed, warm fog.

A historian may be an artist too, and a novelist is a historian, the preserver, the keeper, the expounder, of human experience.

In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility.

We looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs forever, but in the august light of abiding memories.

It occurred to me that my speech or my silence, indeed any action of mine, would be a mere futility.