I Smell Blood And An Era Of

God Bless The Usa, So Large, So Friendly, And So Rich.

From Beginning To End Wilde Performed His Life And Continued To Do So Even After Fame Had Taken The Plot Out Of His Own Hands.

The Poet Marries The Language, And Out Of This Marriage The Poem Is Born.

One Cannot Walk Through An Assembly Factory And Not Feel That One Is In Hell.

All Good Art Is In The Nature Of A Letter Written To Amuse A Sick Friend. Too Much Art, Particularly In Our Time, Is Only A Letter Written To Oneself.