Whereof one may not speak, thereof one sees a great deal.
Religion, art, taste, and other delusions.
Not a few men combine a thorough grounding in the principles of an art with no taste in it whatever. The principles are not forgotten; on the contrary, they are applied to excess.
Nothing is, ever was, or ever will be so bad it’s good.
Art, like science, may be regarded by the practitioner as a collective body of work to which he hopes to make a small contribution.
Domestic sentiment is impossible to portray effectively in art, because it is universal, deeply felt, and always the same.
It is as misdirected to love or admire science, in the large, as poetry. One must ask after not poetry but poems, and not science but experiments.
Eccentric diets and exercise — vegan, paleo, ultra-marathon, yoga — advertise themselves as cures for the body; in fact they are cures for the soul, often at the body’s expense.
We preach for our politics, and for our religion, but preachers for art are known as “critics” and justly regarded as an alien species.
Things are not always what they seem, but that’s the way to bet.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, not because it is subjective, but because it must be noticed.