“Here take back the stuff that I am, nature, knead it back into the dough of being, make of me a bush, a cloud, whatever you will, even a man, only no longer make me me.”
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The pleasures of the imagination are as it were only drawings and models which are played with by poor people who cannot afford the real thing.
Perhaps in time the so-called Dark Ages will be thought of as including our own.
The noble simplicity in the works of nature only too often originates in the noble shortsightedness of him who observes it.
What is called an acute knowledge of human nature is mostly nothing but the observer's own weaknesses reflected back from others.
