Somebody Said That I Am The Last

Where The Dead Walked And The Living Were Made Of Cardboard.

The Author's Conviction On This Day Of New Year Is That Music Begins To Atrophy When It Departs Too Far From The Dance; That Poetry Begins To Atrophy When It Gets Too Far From Music; But This Must Not Be Taken As Implying That All Good Music Is Dance Music Or All Poetry Lyric. Bach And Mozart Are Never Too Far From Physical Movement.

Here Is Our Poetry, For We Have Pulled Down The Stars To Our Will.

Gloom And Solemnity Are Entirely Out Of Place In Even The Most Rigorous Study Of An Art Originally Intended To Make Glad The Heart Of Man.

There Is No Reason Why The Same Man Should Like The Same Books At Eighteen And At Forty-eight