To Make A Mountain Out Of A

Here, Where We Reach The Sphere Of Mathematics, We Are Among Processes Which Seem To Some The Most Inhuman Of All Human Activities And The Most Remote From Poetry. Yet It Is Here That The Artist Has The Fullest Scope Of His Imagination.

The Romantic Embrace Can Only Be Compared With Music And With Prayer.

When Love Is Suppressed Hate Takes Its Place.

We Cannot Remain Consistent With The World Save By Growing Inconsistent With Our Past Selves.

What We Call Progress Is The Exchange Of One Nuisance For Another Nuisance.