I can't do with mountains at close quarters - they are always in the way, and they are so stupid, never moving and never doing anything but obtrude themselves.
It is quite true, as some poets said, that the God who created man must have had a sinister sense of humor, creating him a reasonable being, yet forcing him to take this ridiculous posture, and driving him with blind craving for this ridiculous performance.
One sheds one's sicknesses in books - repeats and presents again one's emotions, to be master of them.
The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?
Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!
I can't bear art that you can walk round and admire. A book should be either a bandit or a rebel or a man in the crowd.