Bald As The Bare Mountain Tops Are

Coldly, Sadly Descends The Autumn Evening. The Field Strewn With Its Dank Yellow Drifts Of Wither'd Leaves, And The Elms, Fade Into Dimness Apace, Silent; Hardly A Shout From A Few Boys Late At Their Play!

Our Inequality Materializes Our Upper Class, Vulgarizes Our Middle Class, Brutalizes Our Lower Class.

Mind Is A Light Which The Gods Mock Us With, To Lead Those False Who Trust It.

I Am Bound By My Own Definition Of Criticism : A Disinterested Endeavour To Learn And Propagate The Best That Is Known And Thought In The World.

Culture Looks Beyond Machinery, Culture Hates Hatred; Culture Has One Great Passion--the Passion For Sweetness And Light. It Has One Even Yet Greater, The Passion For Making Them All Prevail. It Is Not Satisfied Till We All Come To A Perfect Man; It Knows That The Sweetness And Light Of The Few Must Be Imperfect Until The Raw And Unkindly Masses Of Humanity Are Touched With Sweetness And Light.