Those Who Torment Us For Our Own

It Is In Their 'good' Characters That Novelists Make, Unawares, The Most Shocking Self- Revelations.

Every Sin Is The Distortion Of An Energy Breathed Into Us.

Bad Art Is Never Really Enjoyed In The Same Sense In Which Good Art Is Enjoyed. It Is Only "liked": It Never Startles, Prostrates, And Takes Captive.

The Real Test Of Being In The Presence Of God Is, That You Either Forget About Yourself Altogether Or See Yourself As A Small, Dirty Object.

Oh Trees, Trees, Trees...wake. Don't You Remember It? Don't You Remember Me? Dryads And Hamadryads, Come Out, Come [out] To Me.