The moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist.

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine Burned like the ruby fire set In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine, Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate, Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.

An alliterative prefix served as an ornament of oratory.

My friend is not allowed to go out today. I sit by his side and read him passages from his own life. They fill him with surprise. Everyone should keep someone else's diary; I sometimes suspect you of keeping mine.

Indeed I have always been of the opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing to do.

Scepticism is the beginning of Faith.

Life is terrible. It rules us, we do not rule it.