“The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible”

“Ink, a Drug.”

“The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express is, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before.”

“Neither in environment nor in heredity can I find the exact instrument that fashioned me, the anonymous roller that pressed upon my life a certain intricate watermark whose unique design becomes visible when the lamp of art is made to shine through life's foolscap.”

“Genius is finding the invisible link between things.”

“We are still groping perhaps, but we grope intelligently, like a gynecologist feeling a tumor.”

“You see - the moulded whimsy of a friezeon a portico keeps us from recognizing,sometimes, the symmetry of the whole...You will leave; we'll forget one another;but now and then the name of a street,or a street organ weeping in the twilight,will remind us in a more vivid and moretruthful way than thought could resurrector words convey, of that main thingwhich was between us, the main thing whichwe do not know ... And in that hour, the soulwill miraculously sense the charmof past trifles, and we will understandthat in eternity all is eternal”