When Two Men In Business Always Agree,

I Have Never Known Anyone Worth A Damn Who Wasn't Irascible.

Allow Me To Say That I Would Long Since Have Committed Suicide Had Desisting Made Me A Professor Of Latin.

The Only Thing One Can Give An Artist Is Leisure In Which To Work. To Give An Artist Leisure Is Actually To Take Part In His Creation.

The Artist Is The Antenna Of The Race.

The Garden En Robe De Parade. - Samain Like A Skein Of Loose Silk Blown Against A Wall She Walks By The Railing Of A Path In Kensington Gardens, And She Is Dying Piece-meal Of A Sort Of Emotional Anaemia. And Round About There Is A Rabble Of The Filthy, Sturdy, Unkillable Infants Of The Very Poor. They Shall Inherit The Earth. In Her Is The End Of Breeding. Her Boredom Is Exquisite And Excessive. She Would Like Some One To Speak To Her, And Is Almost Afraid That I Will Commit That Indiscretion.