An artist is a cut above the critic, for the artist is writing something which will move the critic. The critic is writing something which will move everybody but the artist
The tormentof human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that theself is in prison, its vital force and ‘mangled mind’ leaking away in lonely,wasteful self-conflict.
Never[enter] into dispute or argument with another. I never yet saw an instance ofone of two disputants convincing the other by argument. I have seen many ontheir getting warm, becoming rude and shooting one another.
