If You See A Tree As Blue,

A Nude By Degas Is Chaste. But His Women Wash In Tubs!

The Missionary Is No Longer A Man, A Conscience. He Is A Corpse, In The Hands Of A Confraternity, Without Family, Without Love, Without Any Of The Sentiments That Are Dear To Us. Emasculated, In A Sense, By His Vow Of Chastity, He Offers Us The Distressing Spectacle Of A Man Deformed And Impotent Or Engaged In A Stupid And Useless Struggle With The Sacred Needs Of The Flesh, A Struggle Which, Seven Times Out Of Ten, Leads Him To Sodomy, The Gallows, Or Prison.

We Never Really Know What Stupidity Is Until We Have Experimented On Ourselves.

The Critics Can Say Stupid Things And We Can Enjoy Them, If We Have The Legitimate Feeling Of Superiority - The Satisfaction Of A Duty Accomplished.

A Great Sentiment Can Be Rendered Immediately. Dream On It And Look For The Simplest Form In Which You Can Express It.