To One Who Has Enjoyed The Full

If Any Individual Live Too Much In Relations, So That He Becomes A Stranger To The Resources Of His Own Nature, He Falls, After A While, Into A Distraction, Or Imbecility, From Which He Can Only Be Cured By A Time Of Isolation, Which Gives The Renovating Fountains Time To Rise Up.

Who Can Ever Be Alone For A Moment In Italy? Every Stone Has A Voice, Every Grain Of Dust Seems Instinct With Spirit From The Past, Every Step Recalls Some Line, Some Legend Of Long-neglected Lore.

The Critic ... Should Be Not Merely A Poet, Not Merely A Philosopher, Not Merely An Observer, But Tempered Of All Three.

Put Up At The Moment Of Greatest Suffering A Prayer, Not For Thy Own Escape, But For The Enfranchisement Of Some Being Dear To Thee, And The Sovereign Spirit Will Accept Thy Ransom.

Everywhere The Fatal Spirit Of Imitation, Of Reference To European Standards, Penetrates And Threatens To Blight Whatever Of Original Growth Might Adorn The Soil.