“ The sort of poetry I seek resides in objects man can't touch. ”
Chicago - a facade of skyscrapers facing a lake and behind the facade every type of dubiousness.
~ E. M. Forster
In the creative state a man is taken out of himself. He lets down as it were a bucket into his subconscious and draws up something which is normally beyond his reach. He mixes this thing with his normal experiences and out of the mixture he makes a work of art.
Faith to my mind is a stiffening process a sort of mental starch.
An efficiency-regime cannot be run without a few heroes stuck about it to carry off the dullness - much as plums have to be put into a bad pudding to make it palatable.
