Violence Is Not A Catalyst But A

The Vilest Scramble For Loot That Ever Disfigured The History Of Human Conscience.

Mathematics Commands All My Respect, But I Have No Use For Engines.

Nations It May Be Have Fashioned Their Governments, But The Governments Have Paid Them Back In The Same Coin.

In Plucking The Fruit Of Memory One Runs The Risk Of Spoiling Its Bloom, Especially If It Has Got To Be Carried Into The Market.

The Artist In His Calling Of Interpreter Creates Because He Must. He Is So Much Of A Voice That, For Him, Silence Is Like Death