Gloom and solemnity are entirely out of place in even the most rigorous study of an art originally intended to make glad the heart of man.
Music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance... poetry begins to atrophy when it gets too far from music.
A slave is one who waits for someone to come and free him.
The modern artist must live by craft and violence. His gods are violent gods. Those artists, so called, whose work does not show this strife, are uninteresting.
A great age of literature is perhaps always a great age of translations.
Religion, oh, just another of those numerous failures resulting from an attempt to popularize art.
