How often it consoles me to think of barbarism once more flooding the world, and real feelings and passions, however rudimentary, taking the place of our wretched hypocrisies.
History has remembered the kings and warriors, because they destroyed; art has remembered the people, because they created.
If you cannot learn to love real art, at least learn to hate sham art and reject it.
I can't enter into politico-social subjects with any interest, for on the whole, I see that things are in a muddle, and I have no power or vocation to set them right in ever so little a degree.
The reward of labour is life. Is that not enough?
Not on one strand are all life's jewels strung.
