It is human misery and not pleasure which contains the secret of the divine wisdom.
Whatever debases the intelligence degrades the entire human being.
A work of art has an author and yet, when it is perfect, it has something which is anonymous about it.
One cannot imagine St. Francis of Assisi talking about rights.
Why is it that reality, when set down untransposed in a book, sounds false?
The work of art which I do not make, none other will ever make.