But Who Are We, Where Do We

It Is Not The Object Described That Matters, But The Light That Falls On It.

If It's So Painful To Love And Absorb Electricity, How Much More Painful It Is To Be A Woman, To Be The Electricity, To Inspire Love.

You And I, It's As Though We Have Been Taught To Kiss In Heaven And Sent Down To Earth Together, To See If We Know What We Were Taught.

A Literary Creation Can Appeal To Us In All Sorts Of Ways-by Its Theme, Subject, Situations, Characters. But Above All It Appeals To Us By The Presence In It Of Art. It Is The Presence Of Art In Crime And Punishment That Moves Us Deeply Rather Than The Story Of Raskolnikov's Crime.

During The Last Years Of Mayakovski's Life, When All Poetry Had Ceased To Exist . . . Literature Had Stopped.