All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.

Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me, and drench me in loneliness.

Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.

Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.

I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink drops, and posting it. And I scald alone, here, under the fire of the great moon.

Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.