I think continually of those who were truly great.

If Rilke cut himself shaving, he would bleed poetry.

I think continually of those who were truly great.

My uncle was famous for his balanced point of view. At the time of which I am writing (when he was nearly seventy) it had become so balanced, that the act of balancing seemed rather automatic.One had only to offer him an opinion for him to balance it with a counter- opinion of exactly the same weight, as a grocer puts a pound weight against a pound of sugar.

There is a certain justice in criticism. The critic is like a midwife - a tyrannical midwife.

I think of those who were truly great. The names of those who in their lives fought for life, Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.

Cult: simply an extension of the idea that everyone's supreme aim in life is self- fulfillment and happiness and that one is entitled to wreck marriage, children and certainly one's health and sanity in pursuit of this.