Art Never Improves, But... The Material Of

We Must Learn To Suffer More.

I Am No Prophet-and Here's No Great Matter.

In My Beginning Is My End. In Succession Houses Rise And Fall, Crumble, Are Extended, Are Removed, Destroyed, Restored, Or In Their Place Is An Open Field, Or A Factory, Or A By-pass. Old Stone To New Building, Old Timber To New Fires, Old Fires To Ashes, And Ashes To The Earth Which Is Already Flesh, Fur And Faeces, Bone Of Man And Beast, Cornstalk And Leaf.

But What Have I, But What Have I, My Friend, To Give You, What Can You Receive From Me? Only The Friendship And The Sympathy Of One About To Reach Her Journey's End.

Destiny Waits In The Hand Of God, Not In The Hands Of Statesmen.