Artists Are The Antennae Of The Race.

What Thou Lovest Well Remains, The Rest Is Dross What Thou Lov’st Well Shall Not Be Reft From Thee What Thou Lov’st Well Is Thy True Heritage

Go To The Adolescent Who Are Smothered In Family-- Oh How Hideous It Is To See Three Generations Of One House Gathered Together! It Is Like An Old Tree With Shoots, And With Some Branches Rotted And Falling.

The Image Is More Than An Idea. It Is A Vortex Or Cluster Of Fused Ideas And Is Endowed With Energy.

We Live In An Age Of Science And Of Abundance. The Care And Reverence For Books As Such, Proper To An Age When No Book Was Duplicated Until Someone Took The Pains To Copy It Out By Hand, Is Obviously No Longer Suited To ’the Needs Of Society’, Or To The Conservation Of Learning. The Weeder Is Supremely Needed If The Garden Of The Muses Is To Persist As A Garden.

As For Literature It Gives No Man A Sinecure. And No One Knows, At Sight, A Masterpiece. And Give Up Verse, My Boy, There's Nothing In It.