but the bravest man among us is afraid of himself

The great things in life are what they seem to be. And for that reason, strange as it may sound to you, often are very difficult to interpret (understand). Great passions are for the great of souls. Great events can only be seen by people who are on a level with them. We think we can have our visions for nothing. We cannot. Even the finest and most self-sacrificing visions have to be paid for. Strangely enough, that is what makes them fine.

We who live in prison, and in whose lives there is no event but sorrow, have to measure time by throbs of pain, and the record of bitter moments.

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

Something was dead in each of us, and what was dead was hope

And alien tears will fill for him pity's long broken urn. For his mourners will all be outcast men, and outcasts always mourn.

The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything, except what is worth knowing.