Can’t bring back time. Like holding water in your hand.
But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
But all they are all there scraping along to sneeze out a likelihood that will solve and salve life’s robulous rebus, hopping round his middle like kippers on a griddle.
Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
Beauty, the splendour of truth, is a gracious presence when the imagination contemplates intensely the truth of its own being or the visible world, and the spirit which proceeds out of truth and beauty is the holy spirit of joy. These are realities and these alone give and sustain life.
Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies.
Art is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an aesthetic end.
All things are inconstant except the faith in the soul, which changes all things and fills their inconstancy with light.
All moanday, tearsday, wailsday, thumpsday, frightday, shatterday till the fear of the Law.
Absence is the highest form of presence.[L’assenza e la forma più alta della presenza.]
A woman loses a charm with every pin she takes out.
A priest of the eternal imagination, transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life.[A writer is]
