The Strong Are So Stupid.

I Have Always Found Writing Pleasant And Don't Understand What People Mean By 'throes Of Creation.'

God Is Not Love In The East. He Is Power, Although Mercy May Temper It.

But Humanity, In Its Desire For Comfort, Had Over-reached Itself. It Had Exploited The Riches Of Nature Too Far. Quietly And Complacently, It Was Sinking Into Decadence, And Progress Had Come To Mean The Progress Of The Machine.

A Work Of Art Is Never Finished. It Is Merely Abandoned.

Only Connect The Prose And The Passion, And Both Will Be Exalted, And Human Love Will Be Seen At Its Highest. Live In Fragments No Longer