If We Were In The Habit Of

The Ways We Miss Our Lives Are Life.

If You Look At The World With Parted Lips And A Pure Heart, And Will The Good, Won't That Make A True And Beautiful Poem? One's Heart Tells One That It Will; And One's Heart Is Wrong. There Is No Direct Road To Parnassus.

The Safest Way To Avoid The World Is Through Art; And The Safest Way To Be Linked To The World Is Through Art.

Originality" Is Everyone's Aim, And Novel Techniques Are As Much Prized As New Scientific Discoveries. [t.s.] Eliot States It With Surprising Naïveté: "it Is Exactly As Wasteful For A Poet To Do What Has Been Done Already As For A Biologist To Rediscover Mendel's Discoveries.

Art Is Long, And Critics Are The Insects Of A Day.