I Used To Think A Bird Couldn't

What Have We To Offer The World Beside The Superabundant Loot Which We Recklessly Plunder From The Earth Under The Maniacal Delusion That This Insane Activity Represents Progress And Enlightenment?

Don't Look For Miracles. You Yourself Are The Miracle.

For The Artist To Attach Himself To His Work, Or Identify Himself With It, Is Suicidal.

How Different The New Order Would Be If We Could Consult The Veteran Instead Of The Politician.

The Dreamer Whose Dreams Are Non-utilitarian Has No Place In This World. In This World The Poet Is Anathema, The Thinker A Fool, The Artist An Escapist, The Man Of Vision A Criminal.