Forgive me, giver, if I destroy the gift. It is so nearly what would please me I cannot but perfect it.

There is a sense of life so real that it becomes the sense of something more real than life:It is the meaning at work in what has no meaning; it is, at its cle…

If what you write is true, it will not be so because of what you are as a writer but because of what you are as a being. There can be no literary equivalent to…

Art, whose honesty must work through artifice, cannot avoid cheating truth. Poetic art cheats truth to further and finer degrees than art of any other kind bec…

Lord, for the erring thought Not into evil wrought: Lord, for the wicked will Betrayed and baffled still: For the heart from itself kept, Our thanksgiving acce…

Clear in thinking, and clear in feeling, / and clear in wanting

I am in the habit of looking not so much to the nature of a gift as to the spirit in which it is offered.