T. S. Eliot
The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.
More quotes and aphorisms
The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight...Sane and intelligent human...Whenever I have friends over, we end up eating...Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll...Happiness is dependent on self-discipline...Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent...
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