There is no more somber enemy of good art than the pram in the hall |
There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another. This should be made clear to all who contemplate such a union. The avoidance of this pain is the beginning of wisdom, for it is strong enough to contaminate the rest of our lives. |
Those of us who were brought up as Christians and have lost our faith have retained the sense of sin without the saving belief in redemption. This poisons our thought and so paralyses us in action. |
Those whom the Gods would destroy, they first call promising. |
Today the function of the artist is to bring imagination to science and science to imagination, where they meet, in the myth. |
Truth is a river that is always splitting up into arms that reunite. Islanded between the arms the inhabitants argue for a lifetime as to which is the main river. |
Vulgarity is the garlic in the salad of life. |
We are all serving a life-sentence in the dungeon of self |
We love but once, for once only are we perfectly equipped for loving. |
We must select the illusion which appeals to our temperament and embrace it with passion, if we want to be happy |
We must select the illusion which appeals to our temperament and embrace it with passion, if we want to be happy |
We must select the illusion which appeals to our temperament and embrace it with passion, if we want to be happy |
Were I to deduce any system from my feelings on leaving Eton, it might be called The Theory of Permanent Adolescence. It is the theory that the experiences undergone by boys at the great public schools, their glories and disappointments, are so intense as to dominate their lives and to arrest their development. From these it results that the greater part of the ruling class remains adolescent, school-minded, self-conscious, cowardly, sentimental, and in the last analysis homosexual. |
What should move us to action is human dignity: the inalienable dignity of the oppressed, but also the dignity of each of us. We lose dignity if we tolerate the intolerable. |
When I contemplate the accumulation of guilt and remorse which, like a garbage-can, I carry through life, and which is fed not only by the lightest action but by the most harmless pleasure, I feel Man to be of all living things the most biologically incompetent and ill-organized. Why has he acquired a seventy years life-span only to poison it incurably by the mere being of himself? Why has he thrown Conscience, like a dead rat, to putrefy in the well? |