[history Is] That Terrible Mill In Which

Rhythm Is One Of The Principal Translators Between Dream And Reality. Rhythm Might Be Described As, To The World Of Sound, What Light Is To The World Of Sight. It Shapes And Gives New Meaning. Rhythm Was Described By Schopenhauer As Melody Deprived Of Its Pitch.

By 'happiness' I Do Not Mean Worldly Success Or Outside Approval, Though It Would Be Priggish To Deny That Both These Things Are Most Agreeable. I Mean The Inner Consciousness, The Inner Conviction That One Is Doing Well The Thing That One Is Best Fitted To Do By Nature.

Vulgarity Is, In Reality, Nothing But A Modern, Chic, Pert Descendant Of The Goddess Dullness.

A Great Many People Now Reading And Writing Would Be Better Employed Keeping Rabbits.

All Great Poetry Is Dipped In The Dyes Of The Heart.