You Must Always Be A-waggle With Love.

Far Back, Far Back In Our Dark Soul The Horse Prances.

The More I Live, The More I Realize What Strange Creatures Human Beings Are. Some Of Them Might Just As Well Have A Hundred Legs, Like A Centipede, Or Six, Like A Lobster. The Human Consistency And Dignity One Has Been Led To Expect From One's Fellow-man Seem Actually Non-existent. One Doubts If They Exist To Any Startling Degree Even In Oneself.

The Horse, The Horse! The Symbol Of Surging Potency And Power Of Movement, Of Action.

I Should Think The American Admiration Of Five-minute Tourists Has Done More To Kill The Sacredness Of Old European Beauty And Aspiration Than Multitudes Of Bombs Would Have Done.

One Could Laugh At The World Better If It Didn't Mix Tender Kindliness With Its Brutality.