The Poet Has To Make A Synthesis

How Agreeable To Watch, From The Other Side Of The High Stile, This Mighty Creature, This Fat Bull Of Bashan, Snorting, Champing, Pawing The Earth, Lashing The Tail, Breathing Defiance At Heaven And At Me ... His Heart Hot With Hate, Unable To Climb A Stile.

Adultery Is A Meanness And A Stealing, A Taking Away From Someone What Should Be Theirs, A Great Selfishness, And Surrounded And Guarded By Lies Lest It Should Be Found Out. And Out Of Meanness And Selfishness And Lying Flow Love And Joy And Peace Beyond Anything That Can Be Imagined.

It Was A Book To Kill Time For Those Who Liked It Better Dead.

The Position Of Women, That Sad And Well-nigh Universal Blot On Civilizations, Was Never Far From Her Mind.

Another Sad Comestive Truth Is That The Best Foods Are The Products Of Infinite And Wearying Trouble. The Trouble Need Not Be Taken By The Consumer, But Someone, Ever Since The Fall, Has Had To Take It.