What goes by the name of love is banishment, with now and then a postcard from the homeland, such is my considered opinion, this evening.

How can one better magnify the Almighty than by sniggering with him at his little jokes, particularly the poorer ones?

Yes, I dont know why, but I have never been disappointed, and I often was in the early days, without feeling at the same time, or a moment later, an undeniable relief.

To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail, that failure is his world and the shrink from desertion, art and craft, good housekeeping, living.

But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.

Enough to know no knowing.

As it is with the love of the body, so with the friendship of the mind, the full is only reached by admittance to the most retired places.