Art Distills Sensation And Embodies It With

Finding Oneself Was A Misnomer; A Self Is Not Found But Made.

The Professionals Resemble And Recognize Each Other By Virtue Of The Stigmata That Their Trade Has Left Upon Them. They Are Like The Dog In The Fable, Whose Collar Has Made An Indelible Mark Around His Neck. The Amateur Is The Shaggy Wolf Whom No Dog Had Better Trust Too Far.

When People Accept Futility And The Absurd As Normal, The Culture Is Decadent.

Convince Yourself That You Are Working In Clay, Not Marble, On Paper Not Eternal Bronze: Let That First Sentence Be As Stupid As It Wishes.

Criticism Will Need An Injection Of Humility That Is, A Recognition Of Its Role As Ancillary To The Arts, Needed Only Occasionally In A Temporary Capacity. Since The Critic Exists Only For Introducing And Explaining, He Must Be Readily Intelligible; He Has No Special Vocabulary: Criticism Is In No Way A Science Or A System.