Criticism, that fine flower of personal expression in the garden of letters.

He struggled with himself, too. I saw it -- I heard it. I saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself.

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

Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and undeniable existence. Imagination, not invention, is the supreme master of art as of life.

There is something haunting in the light of the moon.

It is the mark of an inexperienced man not to believe in luck.

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