It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors

Be warned in time, James, and remain, as I do, incomprehensible: to be great is to be misunderstood.

A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.

And down the long and silent street, The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet, Crept like a frightened girl.

Truth, in the matters of religion, is simply the opinion that has survived.

Every great man nowadays has his disciples, and it is always Judas who writes the biography.

The honest ratepayer and his healthy family have no doubt often mocked at the dome-like forehead of the philosopher, and laughed over the strange perspective of the landscape that lies beneath him. If they really knew who he was, they …