When Words Cease To Cling Close To

Adolf Hitler Was A Jeanne D'arc, A Saint. He Was A Martyr. Like Many Martyrs, He Held Extreme Views.

It Is More Than Likely That The Brain Itself Is, In Origin And Development, Only A Sort Of Great Clot Of Genital Fluid Held In Suspense Or Reserved. This Hypothesis Would Explain The Enormous Content Of The Brain As A Maker Or Presenter Of Images.

As For Literature It Gives No Man A Sinecure. And No One Knows, At Sight, A Masterpiece. And Give Up Verse, My Boy, There's Nothing In It.

Every Great Change Is Simple.

We Do Not Know The Past In Chronological Sequence. It May Be Convenient To Lay It Out Anesthetized On The Table With Dates Pasted On Here And There, But What We Know We Know By Ripples And Spirals Eddying Out From Us And From Our Own Time.