Behind it was that vast suspension bridge which always troubles me because it reminds me that in this mechanized age I am as little able to understand my environment as any primitive woman who thinks that a waterfall is inhabited by a spirit, and indeed less so, for her opinion might from a poetical point of view be correct.

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

Art is not a luxury, but a necessity.

... it matters not what natural endowment a race may have if it prostitutes itself to the service of death.

Humanity is never more sphinxlike than when it is expressing itself.

He is every other inch a gentleman.

The childhood of the individual and the race is full of fears, and panic-stricken attempts to avert what is feared by placating the gods with painful sacrifices.