Dare to be strong and courageous. That is the road. Venture anything.
She is always pretending she loves me, but look at her now. Am I in her thoughts? Is there a tender look in her eyes? Is she dreaming of me as she walks along the streets?
I may stay here in this town another day or I may go on to another town. No one knows where I am. I am taking this bath in life, as you see, and when I have had enough of it I shall go home feeling refreshed.
It was as though her woman’s hand was assisting him to make some minute readjustment of the machinery of his life.
The object of art is not to make salable pictures. It is to save yourself.
You must not become a mere peddler of words. The thing to learn is to know what people are thinking about, not what they say.
The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men.
The thing of course, is to make yourself alive. Most people remain all of their lives in a stupor.
The eighteen years he has lived seem but a moment, a breathing space in the long march of humanity. Already he hears death calling. With all his heart he wants to come close to some other human, touch someone with his hands, be touched by the hand of another.
I think you know that when an American stays away from New York too long something happens to him. Perhaps he becomes a little provincial, a little dead and afraid.
The fools who write articles about me think that one morning I suddenly decided to write and began to produce masterpieces. There is no special trick about writing, or painting either. I wrote constantly for 15 years before I produced anything with any solidity to it.
There is within every human being a deep well of thinking over which a heavy iron lid is kept clamped.