In The East Men Know Panic, But

We Breathe, Sleep, Drink, Eat, Work And Then Die! The End Of Life Is Death. What Do You Long For? Love? A Few Kisses And You Will Be Powerless. Money? What For? To Gratify Your Desires. Glory? What Coems After It All? Death! Death Alone Is Certain.

Those Men, Those Of Former Times, Had Soul And Eyes That In No Way Resemble Ours, And In Their Veins, Along With Their Blood, Flowed Something That Has Disappeared: Love And Admiration For The Beautiful.

The Public Is Composed Of Numerous Groups Whose Cry To Us Writers Is: 'comfort Me.' 'amuse Me.' 'touch My Sympathies.' 'make Me Sad.' 'make Me Dream.' 'make Me Laugh.' 'make Me Shiver.' 'make Me Weep.' 'make Me Think.'

Every Government Has As Much Of A Duty To Avoid War As A Ship's Captain Has To Avoid A Shipwreck.

One Sometimes Weeps Over One's Illusions With As Much Bitterness As Over A Death.