Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance.
Satan, really, is the romantic youth of Jesus re-appearing for a moment.
Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt, in a sense, against actuality.
Nations have their ego, just like individuals.
Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives. The English reading public explains the reason why.
The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.