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Summer Graef

And what did the rubies say standing before the juice of pomegranates? —Pablo Neruda, The Book of Questions

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And as regards the word “art,” I fear it as merchants’ wives fear a Sodom rain of brimstone. When people talk to me of the artistic and the anti-artistic, of that which is theatric, of tendency, realism, etc., I become confused, consent irresolutely, and answer with platitudinous half-truths that are not worth a penny. I divide all literary works into two classes: those that I like and those that I do not like.

— Anton Chekhov, Letters