Others

O, beauty, are you not enough? / Why am I crying after love?

A sentence begins quite simply, then it undulates and expands, parentheses intervene like quick-set hedges, the flowers of comparison bloom, and three fields off, like a wounded partridge, crouches the principal verb, making one wonder as one picks it up, poor little thing, whether after all it was worth such a tramp, so many guns, and such expensive dogs, and what, after all, is its relation to the main subject, potted so gaily half a page back, and proving finally to have been in the accusative case.

Spend all you have for loveliness, / Buy it and never count the cost; / For one white singing hour of peace / Count many a year of strife well lost, / And for a breath of ecstasy / Give all you have been, or could be.

It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit.

“Each man’s soul is his genius.”

Pretty much all the honest truth-telling there is in the world is done by children.

The writer is the engineer of the human soul.

 

The writer is the engineer of the human soul.

 

Spiritual nature, like bodily nature, will be served; deny it food and it will gobble poison.

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the water bath is to the body.

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the water bath is to the body.

The basic essential of a great actor is that he loves himself in acting.

Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.

He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

We are all visionaries, and what we see is our soul in things.

For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within.

For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within.

One should stick by one’s own soul, and by nothing else. In one’s soul, one knows the truth from the untruth, and life from death. And if one betrays one’s own soul-knowledge, one is the worst of traitors.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.

 

For words, like Nature, half reveal

 

For words, like Nature, half reveal

 

I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within.

 

Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky.

Your kneesare a southern breeze—or a gust of snow. Agh! what sort of man was Fragonard?