Only The First Swath Cut By The

Art Thaws Even The Frozen, Darkened Soul, Opening It To Lofty Spiritual Experience.

The Timid Civilized World Has Found Nothing With Which To Oppose The Onslaught Of A Sudden Revival Of Barefaced Barbarity, Other Than Concessions And Smiles.

Literature Transmits Incontrovertible Condensed Experience... From Generation To Generation. In This Way Literature Becomes The Living Memory Of A Nation.

If You Ever Get Twenty-five Years For Nothing, If You Find Yourself Wearing Four Number Patches On Your Clothes, Holding Your Hands Permanently Behind Your Back, Submitting To Searches Morning And Evening, Working Until You Are Utterly Exhausted, Dragged Into The Cooler Whenever Someone Denounces You, Trodden Deeper And Deeper Into The Ground-from The Hole You're In, The Fine Words Of The Great Humanists Will Sound Like The Chatter Of The Well-fed And Free.

Even If We Are Spared Destruction By War, Our Lives Will Have To Change If We Want To Save Life From Self-destruction.