Sometimes The Truth Is Too Simple For

Good Digestions, The Gray Monotony Of Provincial Life, And The Boredom-ah The Soul-destroying Boredom-of Long Days Of Mild Content.

L'homme Est Une Passion Inutile. Man Is A Useless Passion.

One Could Only Damage Oneself Through The Harm One Did To Others. One Could Never Get Directly At Oneself.

There Is No Book Of Mine That I Reject. That Does Not Mean That I Find Them Good.

Every Age Has Its Own Poetry; In Every Age The Circumstances Of History Choose A Nation, A Race, A Class To Take Up The Torch By Creating Situations That Can Be Expressed Or Transcended Only Through Poetry.