The more I see of democracy the more I dislike it. It just brings everything down to the mere vulgar level of wages and prices, electric light and water closets, and nothing else. |
The more scholastically educated a man is generally, the more he is an emotional boor. |
The one woman who never gives herself is your free woman, who is always giving herself. |
The only justice is to follow the sincere intuition of the soul, angry or gentle. Anger is just, and pity is just, but judgment is never just. |
The ordinary novel would trace the history of the diamond - but I say, `Diamond, what! This is carbon.' And my diamond may be coal or soot and my theme is carbon. |
The profoundest of all sensualities is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual experience is the sense of justice |
The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack |
The source of all life and knowledge is in man and woman, and the source of all living is in the interchange and the meeting and mingling of these two: man-life and woman-life, man-knowledge and woman-knowledge, man-being and woman-being. |
The tragedy is when you've got sex in the head instead of down where it belongs. |
The trains roared by like projectiles level on the darkness, fuming and burning, making the valley clang with their passage. They were gone, and the lights of the towns and villages glittered in silence. |
The true artist doesn't substitute immorality for morality. On the contrary, he always substitutes a finer morality for a grosser. And as soon as you see a finer morality, the grosser becomes relatively immoral. |
The true artist doesn't substitute immorality for morality. On the contrary, he always substitutes a finer morality for a grosser. And as soon as you see a finer morality, the grosser becomes relatively immoral. |
The true self is not aware that it is a self. A bird, as it sings, sings itself. But not according to a picture. It has no idea of itself. |
The upshot was, my paintings must burn that English artists might finally learn. |
The war is dreadful. It is the business of the artist to follow it home to the heart of the individual fighters / not to talk in armies and nations and numbers / but to track it home. |