The artist is not a man who describes, but a man who feels.

A politician is an arse upon which everyone has sat except a man.

a man who had fallen among thieves lay by the roadside on his back dressed in fifteenthrate ideas wearing a round jeer for a hat

When skies are hanged and oceans drowned, the single secret will still be man

An artist, a man, a failure, must proceed.

that strictly(and how)scienti fic land of supernod where freedom is compulsory and only man is god.

for whenever men are right they are not young

Who can tell truth from falsehood any more? I say it, and you feel it in your hearts: no man or woman on this big small earth. How should our sages miss the mark of life, and our most skillful players lose the game? your hearts will tell you, as my heart has told me: because all know, and no one understands.

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air...