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Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.
Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.
The great Creator to revereMust sure become the creature;But still the preaching cant forbear,And ev'n the rigid feature:Yet ne'er with read more
The great Creator to revereMust sure become the creature;But still the preaching cant forbear,And ev'n the rigid feature:Yet ne'er with wits profane to rangeBe complaisance extended;An atheist laugh's a poor exchangeFor deity offended. - Epistle to a Young Friend, An.
Only the more rugged mortals should attempt to keep up with current literature.
Only the more rugged mortals should attempt to keep up with current literature.
Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.
Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.
If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no read more
If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no other choice. Failing this duty, he sinks into oblivion. Society, on the other hand, has no obligation toward the poet. A majority by definition, society thinks of itself as having other options than reading verses, no matter how well written. Its failure to do so results in its sinking to that level of locution at which society falls easy prey to a demagogue or a tyrant. This is society's own equivalent of oblivion.
Accuse not nature, she hath done her part;Do thou but thine, and be not diffidentOf wisdom, she deserts thee not, read more
Accuse not nature, she hath done her part;Do thou but thine, and be not diffidentOf wisdom, she deserts thee not, if thouDismiss not her, when most thou needest her nigh,By attributing overmuch to thingsLess excellent, as thou thyself perceivest. - Paradise Lost.
Only those things are beautiful which are inspired by madness and written by reason.
Only those things are beautiful which are inspired by madness and written by reason.
As I was going up the stairI met a man who wasn't thereHe wasn't there again todayI wish, I wish read more
As I was going up the stairI met a man who wasn't thereHe wasn't there again todayI wish, I wish he'd stay away. - The Psychoed.
