It was not a very white jacket, but white enough, in all conscience, as the sequel will show. The way I came by it was this...

Indolence is heaven's ally here, And energy the child of hell: The Good Man pouring from his pitcher clear But brims the poisoned well.

Many sensible things banished from high life find an asylum among the mob.

Instinct and study; love and hate; Audacity-reverence. These must mate, And fuse with Jacob's mystic heart, To wrestle with the angel-Art.

There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like the larks in this country…

'I was born in the back seat of a Yellow Cab in a hospital loading zone and with the meter still running. I emerged needing a shave and shouted 'Time Square, a…

That is the best story he could find in his life, never mind if it's the truest: an artist's duty is always to tell the best story.