passion of any sort is seldom governed by the rules of etiquette.

passion of any sort is seldom governed by the rules of etiquette.

choice in any sphere is a peril, the basic division of peoples is of those who believe in choice and those who mistrust it.

[Race] had no substance, like a shadowy shape that terrifies in the dark but vanishes by the light of day.

what was the right level of prosperity, the level that banished dire need but did not satiate, the level that did not threaten the artist in the individual? And how did one stop when one arrived at it?

Civilization itself is housed in the human being.

In the end countries, like people, are alone, and the real things that must be done have to be done without help.