Tis The Old Secret Of The Gods

We Are The Children Of Many Sires, And Every Drop Of Blood In Us In Its Turn Betrays Its Ancestor.

Beauty Without Grace Is The Hook Without The Bait.

We Write From Aspiration And Antagonism, As Well As From Experience. We Paint Those Qualities Which We Do Not Posses.

Men Love To Wonder, And That Is The Seed Of Science.

It Is In Rugged Crises, In Unbearable Endurance, And In Aims Which Put Sympathy Out Of The Question, That The Angel Is Shown.