He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words$$$ so beautiful and sad$$$ like music.

You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe$$$ whether it call itself my home$$$ my fatherland$$$ or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can$$$ using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use— silence$$$ exile$$$ and cunning.

Her room was warm and lightsome. A huge doll sat with her legs apart in the copious easy-chair beside the bed. He tried to bid his tongue speak that he might seem at ease$$$ watching her as she undid her gown$$$ noting the proud conscious movements of her perfumed head.As he stood silent in the middle of the room she came over to him and embraced him gaily and gravely. Her round arms held him firmly to her and he$$$ seeing her face lifted to him in serious calm and feeling the warm calm rise and fall of her breast$$$ all but burst into hysterical weeping.

He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place.

The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.

To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.

The eyes$$$ too$$$ were reptilelike in glint and gaze. Yet at that instant$$$ humbled and alert in their look$$$ they were lit by one tiny human point$$$ the window of a shriveled soul$$$ poignant and selfembittered.

I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe$$$ whether it calls itself my home$$$ my fatherland$$$ or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can$$$ using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence$$$ exile$$$ and cunning.

And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours$$$ her life simple and strange as a bird's life$$$ gay in the morning$$$ restless all day$$$ tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?

By thinking of things you could understand them.