What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it
You let me throw the bricks through the front window. You go in at the back and take the swag.
AS A MIND, who the hell else is there left for me to take an interest IN
'Tis the white stag, Fame, we're a-hunting, bid the world's hounds come to horn
Mass ought to be in Latin, unless you could do it in Greek or Chinese. In fact, any abracadabra that no bloody member of the public or half-educated ape of a clargimint could think he understood.
With one day's reading a man may have the key in his hands.
A general loathing of a gang or sect usually has some sound basis in instinct.
Allow me to say that I would long since have committed suicide had desisting made me a professor of Latin.
No verse is libre for the man who wants to do a good job.
The Image is more than an idea. It is a vortex or cluster of fused ideas and is endowed with energy.
I guess the definition of a lunatic is a man surrounded by them.
Religion, oh, just another of those numerous failures resulting from an attempt to popularize art.
Either move or be moved.
Real education must ultimately be limited to men who insist on knowing, the rest is mere sheep-herding.
A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him.
A man of genius has a right to any mode of expression.
Tis not need we know our every thought or see the work shop where each mask is wrought wherefrom we view the world of box and pit, careless of wear, just so the mask shall fit and serve our jape's turn for a night or two.
We do NOT know the past in chronological sequence. It may be convenient to lay it out anesthetized on the table with dates pasted on here and there, but what we know we know by ripples and spirals eddying out from us and from our own time.
It ought to be illegal for an artist to marry. If the artist must marry let him find someone more interested in art, or his art, or the artist part of him, than in him. After which let them take tea together three times a week.
Somebody said that I am the last American living the tragedy of Europe.
I could I trust starve like a gentleman. It's listed as part of the poetic training, you know.
If the individual, or heretic, gets hold of some essential truth, or sees some error in the system being practiced, he commits so many marginal errors himself that he is worn out before he can establish his point.
Men do not understand books until they have had a certain amount of life, until they have seen and lived at least part of their contents
The intellect is a very nice whirligig toy, but how people take it seriously is more than I can understand.
I have always thought the suicide should bump off at least one swine before taking off for parts unknown.