There are so many things about which some old man ought to tell one while one is little; for when one is grown one would know them as a matter of course.
He reproduced himself with so much humble objectivity, with the unquestioning, matter of fact interest of a dog who sees himself in a mirror and thinks: there’s another dog.
Surely all art is the result of one’s having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further.
