Love Works Miracles In Stillness.

The Farther A Society Progresses, The More Clearly The Individual Becomes The Antithesis Of The Group.

The Classicist, And The Naturalist Who Has Much In Common With Him, Refuse To See In The Highest Works Of Art Anything But The Exercise Of Judgement, Sensibility, And Skill. The Romanticist Cannot Be Satisfied With Such A Normal Standard; For Him Art Is Essentially Irrational - An Experience Beyond Normality, Sometimes Destructive Of Normality, And At The Very Least Evocative Of That State Of Wonder Which Is The State Of Mind Induced By The Immediately Inexplicable.

The Sense Of Historical Continuity, And A Feeling For Philosophical Rectitude Cannot, However, Be Compromised.

In A Sense, Every Tool Is A Machine--the Hammer, The Ax, And The Chisel. And Every Machine Is A Tool. The Real Distinction Is Between One Man Using A Tool With His Hands And Producing An Object That Shows At Every Stage The Direction Of His Will And The Impression Of His Personality; And A Machine Which Is Producing, Without The Intervention Of A Particular Man, Objects Of A Uniformity And Precision That Show No Individual Variation And Have No Personal Charm. The Problem Is To Decide Whether The Objects Of Machine Production Can Possess The Essential Qualities Of Art.

It Will Be A Gay World. There Will Be Lights Everywhere Except In The Minds Of Men, And The Fall Of The Last Civilization Will Not Be Heard Above The Din.