To Write Poetry And To Commit Suicide,

That's The Trouble With Provincial Life. Everyone Knows Everyone And There Is No Mystery. No Romance.

Evolution Did Not Intend Trees To Grow Singly. Far More Than Ourselves They Are Social Creatures, And No More Natural As Isolated Specimens Than Man Is As A Marooned Sailor Or Hermit.

It Is Not Only Species Of Animal That Die Out, But Whole Species Of Feeling. And If You Are Wise You Will Never Pity The Past For What It Did Not Know, But Pity Yourself For What It Did.

I Think It Is Interesting That We Have Come Back To Star- And Space Ships. Jet Will Do For A Transport Shorthand; Yet When Man Really Reaches, Across The Vast Seas Of Space, He Still Reaches In Ships.

When You Draw Something It Lives And When You Photograph It It Dies