But there is that about well-intentioned advice that has the opposite effect of the one intended, and causes a Spanish fly of perversity to enter into the hitherto passive soul.
anybody who drinks seriously is poor: so poor, poor, extra poor, me.
In America they make too much fuss of poets; in London they make too little.
... the mere thought of going near a man who is not mellowly pickled, and whose breath reeks of his native fleshy self, is squeamishly unpalatable to me.
Anyone who has attempted to create knows the hellishness of it, which consists in the final inescapability from it. Knows that anything, however deadly humdrum to drug the senses, is preferable to it. Knows the gigantic effort to get started on the boundless, unwieldy, shapeless material; the forest of hesitations; of what to keep and what to throw out; the running-out terror and reluctance in one of finishing.
Anybody who thinks there is any vague chance of adult exchange with a child is up the spout; and would be much less disappointed if they recognized the chasm unbridgeably dividing them.
money ... is only important when you have none; and though it may not be everything, it goes a very long way towards blocking up the winter draft of age.
Love can bear anything better than ridicule.
[On journalists:] ... however lyingly libellous they may be: nobody can seriously hurt the reputation of a Great person. If he is hurt: he is not Great. They can but scratch at his skin with their mice nails.
There is a great gulf between the really creative person and normal people. The totally creative person does not have the rest of his life in proper proportion.
I don't trust sentimentality in men; it goes with tyranny; you can't have one without the other.
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