I cannot see that art is anything less than a way of making joys perpetual.

Birds sat on the telegraph wires that spanned the river as the black notes sit on a staff of music.

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning.

We think in youth that our bodies are identical to ourselves and have the same interests, but discover later in life that they are heartless companions who have been accidentally yoked with us, and who are as likely as not, in our extreme sickness or old age, to treat us with less mercy than we would have received at the hands of the worst bandits.

Destiny is another name for humanity's half-hearted yet persistent search for death. Again and again peoples have had the chance to live and show what would happen if human life were irrigated by continual happiness; and they have preferred to blow up the canals and perish of drought.

Everyone realizes that one can believe little of what people say about each other. But it is not so widely realized that even less can one trust what people say about themselves.

A copy of the universe is not what is required of art; one of the damned things is ample.