Look at this poet William Carlos Williams: he is primitive and native, and his roots are in raw forest and violent places; he is word-sick and place-crazy. He admires strength, but for what? Violence! This is the cult of the… — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
A painter can hang his pictures, but a writer can only hang himself. — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
I know sage, wormwood, and hyssop, but I can't smell character unless it stinks. — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
The ruin of the human heart is self-interest, which the American merchant calls self-service. We have become a self-service populace, and all our specious… — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
Ambition is a Dead Sea fruit, and the greatest peril to the soul is that one is likely to get precisely what he is… — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
The ancients understood the regulation of power better than the regulation of liberty. — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
We are always talking about being together, and yet whatever we invent destroys the family, and makes us wild, touchless beasts feeding on technicolor… — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
“Bosch is great because what he imagines in color can be translated into justice.” — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
Perhaps Samuel Johnson was a great man; he was certainly a drumbling one. — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
What is most appalling in an F. Scott Fitzgerald book is that it is peopleless fiction: Fitzgerald writes about spectral, muscledsuits; dresses, hats, and… — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
Though man is the only beast that can write, he has small reason to be proud of it. When he utters something that is… — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
“Nobody heard her tears; the heart is a fountain of weeping water which makes no noise in the world.” — Edward Dahlberg Copy Share Image
