If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
John UpdikeRead
But for a few phrases from his letters and an odd line or two of his verse, the poet walks gagged through his own biography.
Interpretation
The quote suggests that a poet's true essence and thoughts are often constrained and cannot be fully expressed through their biography.
John Updike reflects on the limitations of a poet's biography, indicating that much of their inner life and creative spirit remains hidden behind the constraints of biography. While a few selected phrases and lines may convey some part of their artistic identity, the fullness of their experience and creativity cannot be fully captured or understood through mere biographical details.
In practice
In a literary discussion about the limitations of biographical interpretations of artists.
If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of. _x000D_ _x000D_ Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.
Museums and bookstores should feel, I think, like vacant lots - places where the demands on us are our own demands, where the spirit can find exercise in unsupervised play.
But it is just two lovers, holding hands and in a hurry to reach their car, their locked hands a starfish leaping through the dark.
The reader knows the writer better than he knows himself; but the writer's physical presence is light from a star that has moved on.
To guarantee the individual maximum freedom within a social frame of minimal laws ensures - if not happiness - its hopeful pursuit.
Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
I cannot force a design; I do not see this process as being under my conscious control.
That was the appealing thing about comics: There literally is no budget in comics. You're only limited by your imagination.
How happily, said Austerlitz, have I sat over a book in the deepening twilight until I could no longer make out the words and my mind began to wander, and how secure have I felt seated at the desk in my house in the dark night, just watching the tip of my pencil in the lamplight following its shadow, as if of its own accord and with perfect fidelity, while that shadow moved regularly from left to right, line by line, over the ruled paper.
You know, traditional country music is something that's going to be around forever.
Art for art's sake is an empty phrase. Art for the sake of truth, art for the sake of the good and the beautiful, that is the faith I am searching for.
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