It is strange that the tactile sense, which is so infinitely less precious to men than sight, becomes at critical moments our main, if not only, handle to reality.
I will contend until I am shot that art as soon as it is brought into contact with politics inevitably sinks to the level of any ideological trash.
I was an infant when my parents died.Thye both were ornithologists. I've triedSo often to evoke them that todayI have a thousand parents. Sadly theyDissolve in their own virtues and recede,But certain...
I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling
I see the awakening of consciousness as a series of spaced flashes, with the intervals between them gradually diminishing until bright blocks of perception are formed, affording memory and a slippery...
I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet f...
I have never seen a more lucid, more lonely, better balanced mad mind than mine.
I felt my life needed a shake-up.
I am an actor, living generally on air, but I have always elastic hopes for the future; they may be stretched indefinitely, such hopes, without bursting
I adore you. I shall never love any-body in my life as I adore you, never and nowhere, neither ineternity, nor in terrenity, neither in Ladore, nor on Terra, where they say our souls go. But! But, my...
Human thought, flying on the trapezes of the star-filled universe, with mathematics stretched beneath, was like an acrobat working with a net but suddenly noticing that in reality there is no net.
His heart missed a beat and never regretted the lovely loss.
Her hair was well brushed that day and sheened darkly in contrast with the lusterless pallor of her neck and arms. She wore the striped tee shirt which in his lone fantasies he especially liked to pee...
Fame in our day is too common to be confused with the enduring glow around the deserving book.
Coordinating thereEvents and objects with remote eventsAnd vanished objects. Making ornamentsOf accidents and possibilities.
As far back as I can remember myself—and I remember myself with lawless lucidity, I have been my own accomplice, who knows too much, and therefore is dangerous.
Might it console you to know that I expect nothing but torture from her return? That I regard you as a bird of paradise?She shook her head.- That my admiration for you is painfully strong?- I want Van...
The subject may be crude and repulsive. Its expression is artistically modulated and balanced. This is style. This is art. This is the only thing that really matters in books.
Poetry involves the mysteries of the irrational perceived through rational words.
A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist.