I Am Not, And Never Was, And

Beauty Plus Pity-that Is The Closest We Can Get To A Definition Of Art. Where There Is Beauty There Is Pity For The Simple Reason That Beauty Must Die: Beauty Always Dies, The Manner Dies With The Matter, The World Dies With The Individual.

A Major Writer Combines These Three - Storyteller, Teacher, Enchanter - But It Is The Enchanter In Him That Predominates And Makes Him A Major Writer.

The Clumsiest Literal Translation Is A Thousand Times More Useful Than The Prettiest Paraphrase.

It Was Love At First Sight, At Last Sight, At Ever And Ever Sight.

I Was The Shadow Of The Waxwing Slain/by The False Azure In The Windowpane.