“Every parent is at some time the father of the unreturned prodigal, with nothing to do but keep his house open to hope.”
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A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea.
What has any poet to trust more than the feel of the thing? Theory concerns him only until he picks up his pen, and it begins to concern him again as soon as he lays it down.
Modern art is what happens when painters stop looking at girls and persuade themselves that they have a better idea.
Intelligence recognizes what has happened. Genius recognizes what will happen.
