I Seldom Meet Actors, They Are To

Take My Camel, Dear,' Said My Aunt Dot, Climbing Down From That Animal On Her Return From High Mass.

Mozart Is Everyone's Tea, Pleasing To Highbrows, Middlebrows And Lowbrows Alike, Though They Probably All Get Different Kinds Of Pleasure From Him.

We Know One Another's Faults, Virtues, Catastrophes, Mortifications, Triumphs, Rivalries, Desires, And How Long We Can Each Hang By Our Hands To A Bar. We Have Been Banded Together Under Pack Codes And Tribal Laws.

Why Is Humanity So Excessive In The Way It Does Things? The Golden Mean Seems Out Of Fashion.

The Ascendancy Over Men's Minds Of The Ruins Of The Stupendous Past, The Past Of History, Legend And Myth, At Once Factual And Fantastic, Stretching Back And Back Into Ages That Can But Be Surmised, Is Half-mystical In Basis. The Intoxication, At Once So Heady And So Devout, Is Not The Romantic Melancholy Engendered By Broken Towers And Mouldered Stones; It Is The Soaring Of The Imagination Into The High Empyrean Where Huge Episodes Are Tangled With Myths And Dreams; It Is The Stunning Impact Of World History On Its Amazed Heirs.