Art Is Interested In Life At The

I Come Here To Speak Poetry. It Will Always Be In The Grass. It Will Also Be Necessary To Bend Down To Hear It. It Will Always Be Too Simple To Be Discussed In Assemblies.

They Loved Each Other, Not Driven By Necessity, By The "blaze Of Passion" Often Falsely Ascribed To Love. They Loved Each Other Because Everything Around Them Willed It, The Trees And The Clouds And The Sky Over Their Heads And The Earth Under Their Feet.

It's Only In Bad Novels That People Are Divided Into Two Camps And Have Nothing To Do With Each Other. In Real Life Everything Gets Mixed Up! Don't You Think You'd Have To Be A Hopeless Nonentity To Play Only One Role All Your Life, To Have Only One Place In Society, Always To Stand For The Same Thing?--ah, There You Are!" - Larissa Fyodorovna In Doctor Zhivago.

He Realised, More Vividly Than Ever Before, That Art Had Two Constant, Two Unending Preoccupations: It Is Always Meditating Upon Death And It Is Always Thereby Creating Life.

The Writer Is The Faust Of Modern Society, The Only Surviving Individualist In A Mass Age. To His Orthodox Contemporaries He Seems A Semi-madman.