To Be Disesteemed By People You Don't

Every Age Has A Keyhole To Which Its Eye Is Pasted.

The Consumer Today Is The Victim Of The Manufacturer Who Launches On Him A Regiment Of Products For Which He Must Make Room In His Soul.

The Theater Is The Only Branch Of Art Much Cared For By People Of Wealth; Like Canasta, It Does Away With The Brother Of Talk After Dinner.

This Grossly Advertised Wonder [venice], This Gold Idol With Clay Feet, This Trompe-l'oeil, This Painted Deception, This Cliche-what Intelligent Iconoclast Could Fail To Experience A Destructive Impulse In Her Presence?

In Moments Of Despair, We Look On Ourselves Lead-enly As Objects; We See Ourselves, Our Lives, As Someone Else Might See Them And May Even Be Driven To Kill Ourselves If The Separation, The "knowledge," Seems Sufficiently Final.