There is an old American saying 'He who lives in a glass house should not try to kill two birds with one stone.

Although we read with our minds, the seat of artistic delight is between the shoulder blades. That little shiver behind is quite certainly the highest form of emotion that humanity has attained when evolving pure art and pure science. Let us worship the spine and its tingle.

At eight, he had once told his mother that he wanted to paint air.

Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we met we had had the same dreams. We compared notes. We found strange affinities. The same June of the same year (1919) a stray canary had fluttered into her house and mine, in two widely separated countries. Oh, Lolita, had you love me thus!

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane.

Life is a message scribbled in the dark.

I am not, and never was, and never could have been, a brutal scoundrel.