"The novelist, unlike many of his colleagues, makes up a number of word-masses roughly describing himself (roughly: niceties shallcome later), gives them names and sex, assigns them plausible gestures, and causes them to speak by the use of inverted commas, and perhaps to behave consistently."
"The businessman who assumes that his life is everything, and the mystic who asserts that it is nothing, fail, on this side and onthat, to hit the truth.... No; truth, being alive ... was only to be found by continuous excursions into either realm, and though proportion is the final secret, to espouse it at the outset is to ensure sterility."
"No; truth, being alive, was not halfway between anything. It was only to be found by continuous excursions into either realm, andthough proportion is the final secret, to espouse it at the outset is to ensure sterility."
"Art for art's sake? I should think so, and more so than ever at the present time. It is the one orderly product which our middlingrace has produced. It is the cry of a thousand sentinels, the echo from a thousand labyrinths, it is the lighthouse which cannot be hidden ... it is the best evidence we can have of our dignity."