The Modernist Writers Found Despair Inspirational.

The Noisy Vacancy Of Youth, The Quiet Vacancy Of Age.

I Am Interested In A Hundred Things, But Only Slightly.

Home Again, I Can Groan, Scratch, And Talk To Myself.

Many Pains Are Imaginary, But All Joys Are Real.

Whether I Give To A Beggar Or Not, His Existence Puts Me In The Wrong.