O God, In The Dream The Terrible

No More Pronouncements On Lousy Verse. No More Hidden Competition. No More Struggling Not To Be A Square.

The Intellectual Is A Middle-class Product; If He Is Not Born Into The Class He Must Soon Insert Himself Into It, In Order To Exist. He Is The Fine Nervous Flower Of The Bourgeoisie.

... Politics Are Nothing But Sand And Gravel: It Is Art And Life That Feed Us Until We Die. Everything Else Is Ambition, Hysteria Or Hatred.

Innocence Of Heart And Violence Of Feeling Are Necessary In Any Kind Of Superior Achievement: The Arts Cannot Exist Without Them.

True Revolutions In Art Restore More Than They Destroy.