The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mold of the body and mind.
From Virginia Woolf
Great bodies of people are never responsible for what they do.
Where the Mind is biggest, the Heart, the Senses, Magnanimity, Charity, Tolerance, Kindliness, and the rest of them scarcely have room to breathe.
Nothing has really happened until it has been recorded.
Humor is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
The older one grows, the more one likes indecency.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.
It is far more difficult to murder a phantom than a reality.
It seems as if an age of genius must be succeeded by an age of endeavour; riot and extravagance by cleanliness and hard work.
Yet, it is true, poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.
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