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The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a read more
The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a very narrow-minded situation.
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.
Author: A fool, who, not content with having bored those who have lived with him, insists on tormenting the generations read more
Author: A fool, who, not content with having bored those who have lived with him, insists on tormenting the generations to come.
The answers you get from literature depend on the questions you pose.
The answers you get from literature depend on the questions you pose.
Our high respect for a well-read man is praise enough of literature.
Our high respect for a well-read man is praise enough of literature.
For the high achievers, studying gave them the pleasing, absorbing challenge o flow 40 percent of the hours they spent read more
For the high achievers, studying gave them the pleasing, absorbing challenge o flow 40 percent of the hours they spent at it. But for low achievers, studying produced flow only 16 percent of the time; more often that not, it yielded anxiety, with the demands outreaching their abilities.
The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen read more
The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen for the reverberation.
A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its read more
A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author.
We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have read more
We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have suffered the pain of loss, and the more wearing, continuous pain of frustration and failure; and have had moods of unlooked-for release and peace. They have known and watched in themselves and others.
