And none will hear the postman’s knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
Learn from your dreams what you lack.
Out on the lawn I lie in bed, Vega conspicuous overhead.
In the end, art is small beer. The really serious things are earning one's living so as not to be a parasite and loving one's neighbor.
The center that I cannot find is known to my unconscious mind.
A craftsman knows in advance what the finished result will be, while the artist knows only what it will be when he has finished it.