We do not quite forgive a giver. The hand that feeds us is in some danger of being bitten. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

A creative economy is the fuel of magnificence.

For poetry was all written before time was, and whenever we are so finely organized that we can penetrate into that region where the air is music, we hear those primal warblings and attempt to write them down, but we lose ever and anon a word or a verse and substitute something of our own, and thus miswrite the poem. The men of more delicate ear write down these cadences more faithfully, and these transcripts, though imperfect, become the songs of the nations.

Beauty without grace is the hook without the bait.