The history of men's opposition to women's emancipation is more interesting perhaps than the story of that emancipation itself.
It is the nature of the artist to mind excessively what is said about him. Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.
The beautiful seems right by force of beauty, and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.
A masterpiece is something said once and for all, stated, finished, so that it's there complete in the mind, if only at the back.
Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame.
There can be no two opinions as to what a highbrow is. He is the man or woman of thoroughbred intelligence who rides his mind at a gallop across country in pursuit of an idea.
If you insist upon fighting to protect me, or 'our' country, let it be understood soberly and rationally between us that you are fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot share; to procure benefits where I have not shared and probably will not share.
It is curious how instinctively one protects the image of oneself from idolatry or any other handling that could make it ridiculous, or too unlike the original to be believed any longer.
Who shall measure the hat and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?
Humor is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.
One has to secrete a jelly in which to slip quotations down people's throats - and one always secretes too much jelly.
I read the book of Job last night, I don't think God comes out well in it.
Language is wine upon the lips.
I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.
Masterpieces are not single and solitary births; they are the outcome of many years of thinking in common, of thinking by the body of the people, so that the experience of the mass is behind the single voice.
We can best help you to prevent war not by repeating your words and following your methods but by finding new words and creating new methods.
Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.
The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mold of the body and mind.
