I do most thoroughly agree with what you say about Art and Literature. To my mind they can only be healthy when they are either (a) admittedly aiming at nothing but innocent recreation or (b) definitely the handmaids of religious or at least moral truth. Dante is alright and Pickwick is alright. But the great serious irreligious art—art for art’s sake—is all balderdash; and incidentally never exists when art is really flourishing. One can say of Arts as an author I recently read said of love (sexual love I mean), ‘It ceases to be a devil when it ceases to be god.’ Isn’t that well put?
Letter to Dom Bede Griffiths, April 16, 1940