If you have that unconquerable urge to write, nothing will stop you from writing.

The strong man wants to be allowed to DO; the little man wants to stop him.

Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on wings of misery and travail.

We are to have no pictures which the puritan and the narrow, animated by an obsolete dogma, cannot approve of. We are to have no theaters no motion pictures, no books, no public exhibitions of any kind, no speech even which will anyway contravene his limited view of life.

Shakespeare, I come!

Let no one underestimate the need of pity. We live in a stony universe whose hard, brilliant forces rage fiercely.

I sacrifice to the God of Beauty — the impulse to beauty in nature. Here are flowers. Here is wine spilled on the floor. I will burn incense & myrhh. I will kneel & strike my breast & touch the dust with my forehead. I will I will! Only do not forsake me, Oh God of beauty.