Summer — Summer — Summer! The Soundless

Art Is The One Form Of Human Energy In The Whole World, Which Really Works For Union, And Destroys The Barriers Between Man And Man. It Is The Continual, Unconscious Replacement, However Fleeting, Of Oneself By Another; The Real Cement Of Human Life; The Everlasting Refreshment And Renewal. For, What Is Grievous, Dompting, Grim, About Our Lives Is That We Are Shut Up Within Ourselves, With An Itch To Get Outside Ourselves. And To Be Stolen Away From Ourselves By Art Is A Momentary Relaxation From That Itching, A Minute's Profound, And As It Were Secret, Enfranchisement.

Headlines Twice The Size Of The Events.

Public Opinion's Always In Advance Of The Law.

We Are Not Living In A Private World Of Our Own. Everything We Say And Do And Think Has Its Effect On Everything Around Us.

When A Forsyte Was Engaged, Married, Or Born, The Forsytes Were Present; When A Forsyte Diedbut No Forsyte Had As Yet Died; They Did Not Die; Death Being Contrary To Their Principles, They Took Precautions Against It, The Instinctive Precautions Of Highly Vitalised Persons Who Resent Encroachments On Their Property.