A Real Gimlet Is Half Gin And

There Are No Vital And Significant Forms Of Art; There Is Only Art, And Precious Little Of That.

She Was Kind Of Girl Who'd Eat All Your Cashews And Leave You With Nothing But Peanuts And Filberts.

Without Magic, There Is No Art. Without Art, There Is No Idealism. Without Idealism, There Is No Integrity. Without Integrity, There Is Nothing But Production.

Down These Mean Streets A Man Must Go Who Is Not Himself Mean, Who Is Neither Tarnished Nor Afraid...he Is The Hero, He Is Everything. He Must Be A Complete Man And A Common Man And Yet An Unusual Man. He Must Be, To Use A Rather Weathered Phrase, A Man Of Honor, By Instinct, By Inevitability, Without Thought Of It, And Certainly Without Saying It. He Must Be The Best Man In His World And A Good Enough Man For Any World

In Everything That Can Be Called Art There Is A Quality Of Redemption. It May Be Pure Tragedy, If It Is High Tragedy, And It May Be Pity And Irony, And It May Be The Raucous Laughter Of The Strong Man. But Down These Mean Streets A Man Must Go Who Is Not Himself Mean, Who Is Neither Tarnished Nor Afraid.