In Order To Have Wisdom We Must

Your Writer, Your Scientist, Your Chief Official, All Have Lost The Power To Revive The Early Illusion Concerning Fame And High Place. Their Beauty And Delight Is Like The Mirage In The Heavens, Only Plain To The Eye Outside; Within Is Nothing.

Art Is The Stored Honey Of The Human Soul, Gathered On Wings Of Misery And Travail.

The Thing That Impressed Me Then As Now About New York… Was The Sharp, And At The Same Time Immense, Contrast It Showed Between The Dull And The Shrewd, The Strong And The Weak, The Rich And The Poor, The Wise And The Ignorant… The Strong, Or Those Who Ultimately Dominated, Were So Very Strong, And The Weak So Very, Very Weak - And So Very, Very Many.

Assure A Man That He Has A Soul And Then Frighten Him With Old Wives' Tales As To What Is To Become Of Him Afterward, And You Have Hooked A Fish, A Mental Slave.

I Have Seen Youths Bright Eyed And Fair Groping After Bubbles In Rapture, And Conceiving Them Diamonds And The Glitter Of Fine Jewels, Until Their Hand Closed Over A Something That Was Not To Be Felt Nor Longer Seen, Mere Colored Air.