Why Is It That Traveling Americans Are

Our American Professors Like Their Literature Clear And Cold And Pure And Very Dead.

Is It Possible That Nobody Has Ever Known That There Never Has Been A Completely Civilized Man, And Won't Be For Another Thousand Years?

I Have For Myself No Conceivable Complaint To Make, And Yet For American Literature In General, And Its Standing In A Country Where Industrialism And Finance And Science Flourish And The Only Arts That Are Vital And Respected Are Architecture And The Film, I Have A Considerable Complaint.

Thus Carol Hit Upon The Tragedy Of Old Age, Which Is Not That It Is Less Vigorous Than Youth, But That It Is Not Needed By Youth.

The World And All Its Wisdom Is But A Booby, Blundering School-boy That Needs Management And Could Be Managed, If Men And Women Would Be Human Beings Instead Of Just Business Men, Or Plumbers, Or Army Officers, Or Commuters, Or Educators, Or Authors, Or Clubwomen, Or Traveling Salesmen, Or Socialists, Or Republicans, Or Salvation Army Leaders, Or Wearers Of Cloths.