Omissions Are Not Accidents.

The Deepest Feeling Always Shows Itself In Silence.

We Prove, We Do Not Explain, Our Birth.

When We Think We Don't Like Art It Is Because It Is Artificial Art.

When One Cannot Appraise Out Of One's Own Experience, The Temptation To Blunder Is Minimized, But Even When One Can, Appraisal Seems Chiefly Useful As Appraisal Of The Appraiser.

[the] Whirlwind Fife-and-drum Of The Storm Bends The Salt Marsh Grass, Disturbs Stars In The Sky And The Star On The Steeple; It Is A Privilege To See So Much Confusion.