Literature must spring from the deep and submerged humus of our life.

The body repeats the landscape. They are the source of each other and create each other.

Each generation must go further than the last or what's the use in it?

Suddenly many movements are going on within me, many things are happening, there is an almost unbearable sense of sprouting, of bursting encasements, of moving kernels, expanding flesh.

Memory in America suffers amnesia.

The people always know that some of the grain will be good, some of the crop will be saved, some will return and bear the strength of the kernel, that from the bloodiest year some survive to outfox the frost.

A good civilization gives the greatest possible scope to the common passions and makes them intelligible among the great number of people.