I Like Reality. It Tastes

My Wife Was An Opera Singer, You Know. She Bellowed Her Way Through Wagner As A Valkyrie. I Married Her And Made Her Give Up The Theatre, To My Eternal Cost. She Was To Go On Acting For Myself Alone. A Performance At His Own Expense, Lasting For More Than Twenty Years, Tends To Wear Out Your Spectator.

The Object Of Art Is To Give Life Shape.

I Don't Want People To Love Me. It Makes For Obligations.

Believe Me; All Evil Comes From The Old. They Grow Fat On Ideas And Young Men Die Of Them.

One Can Be A Patriot, You Know, Without Making One's Wife Join The Breadline.