It's no disgrace to be a private, you know. Socrates was a plain foot soldier, a hoplite.
A writer is a reader moved to emulation.
Art is order, made out of the chaos of life.
My face too blind, my mind too limited, my instincts too narrow. But this intensity, doesn't it mean anything?
It is a joy to be choked with thought.
I've never turned over a fig leaf yet that didn't have a price tag on the other side.