Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness.
Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin.
Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston.
Life began for me, when I ceased to admire and began to remember.
That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.
The only thing very noticeable about Nebraska was that it was still, all day long, Nebraska.