“Every man should follow the bent of his nature in art and letters, always provided that he does not offend against the rules of morality and good taste.”
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As I pass it, I feel as if I saw a dear old mother, sweet in her weakness, trembling at the approach of her dissolution, but not appealing to me against the inevitable, rather endeavouring to reassure me by her patience, and pointing to a hopeful future.
I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.
The sinews of art and literature, like those of war, are money.
Modesty: the gentle art of enhancing your charm by pretending not to be aware of it.
