Life Is To Blame For

... The Structure Of A Page Of Good Prose Is, Analyzed Logically, Not Something Frozen But The Vibrating Of A Bridge, Which Changes With Every Step One Takes On It.

His Answers Were Quite Often Like That. When She Spoke Of Beauty, He Spoke Of The Fatty Tissue Supporting The Epidermis. When She Mentioned Love, He Responded With The Statistical Curve That Indicates The Automatic Rise And Fall In The Annual Birthrate. When She Spoke Of The Great Figures In Art, He Traced The Chain Of Borrowings That Links These Figures To One Another.

He Who Is Allowed To Do As He Likes Will Soon Run His Head Into A Brick Wall Out Of Sheer Frustration.

It Will Always Be The Same Possibilities, In Sum Or On The Average, That Go On Repeating Themselves Until A Man Comes Along Who Does Not Value The Actuality Above Idea. It Is He Who First Gives The New Possibilities Their Meaning, Their Direction, And He Awakens Them.

... For The Modern Soul, For Which It Is Mere Child's Play To Bridge Oceans And Continents, There Is Nothing So Impossible As To Find The Contact With The Souls Dwelling Just Around The Corner.