The Bad Poet Is A Toady Mimicking

One Of The Weaknesses In The Cooperative Is That It Has Never Been Sufficiently Leavened By The Imagination. This Is A Quick-silver Faculty, And Likely To Be A Cause Of Worry To Any Collective Settlement.

Hardly A Book Of Human Worth, Be It Heaven's Own Secret, Is Honestly Placed Before The Reader; It Is Either Shunned, Given A Periclean Funeral Oration In A Hundred And Fifty Words, Or Interred In The Potter's Field Of The Newspapers Back Pages.

We Are A Most Solitary People, And We Live, Repelled By One Another, In The Gray, Outcast Cities Of Cain.

Men Are Mad Most Of Their Lives; Few Live Sane, Fewer Die So. The Acts Of People Are Baffling Unless We Realize That Their Wits Are Disordered. Man Is Driven To Justice By His Lunacy.

We Can Only Write Well About Our Sins Because It Is Too Difficult To Recall A Virtuous Act Or Even Whether It Was The Result Of Good Or Evil Motives.