Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.
By the same author and on kindred topics.
One by one they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
I wanted real adventures to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.
The longest way round is the shortest way home.
The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.
Love loves to love love.
Shut your eyes and see.
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