There Is No Reason Why The Same

To Say That A State Cannot Pursue Its Aims Because There Is No Money, Is Like Saying That An Engineer Cannot Build Roads, Because There Are No Kilometers.

It Is More Than Likely That The Brain Itself Is, In Origin And Development, Only A Sort Of Great Clot Of Genital Fluid Held In Suspense Or Reserved. This Hypothesis Would Explain The Enormous Content Of The Brain As A Maker Or Presenter Of Images.

Poetry Is A Language Pared Down To Its Essentials.

Fit For Kings, Formal Gardens Afford An Earthly Elysium And The Odd Impression That We Mere Men Might Actually Control Nature For A Time.

No Picture Is Made To Endure Nor To Live With But It Is Made To Sell And Sell Quickly With Usura, Sin Against Nature, Is Thy Bread Ever More Of Stale Rags Is Thy Bread Dry As Paper.