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

In plucking the fruit of memory one runs the risk of spoiling its bloom, especially if it has got to be carried into the market.

That faculty of beholding at a hint the face of his desire and the shape of his dream, without which the earth would know no lover and no adventurer.

It is my belief no man ever understands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the grim shadow of self knowledge.

The good author is he who contemplates without marked joy or excessive sorrow the adventures of his soul amongst criticisms.

The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil water-way leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

A fool has more ideas than a wise man can foresee.