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There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
All art is quite useless.
There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us.
It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.
It feels instinctively that manners are of more importance than morals,
Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man’s face. It cannot be concealed. People talk sometimes of secret vices. There are no such things.
The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.