Hard times ain't quit and we ain't quit.
The body repeats the landscape. They are the source of each other and create each other.
No art can develop until it penetrates deeply into the life of the people.
Literature must spring from the deep and submerged humus of our life.
Each generation must go further than the last or what's the use in it?
An abyss seems to have opened between the intellectual cosmopolites of culture and the people, hungry for word and meaning.