Excess Always Carries Its Own Retribution.

Death! It Is Rest To The Aged, It Is Oblivion To The Atheist, It Is Immortality To The Poet!

A New Life Is Innocent, Like An Empty Page, Ready For The Hard Lessons Ahead. Gennita Low, Facing Fear To Vice, Innocence Must Always Seem Only A Superior Kind Of Chicanery.

Sport Inevitably Creates Deadness Of Feeling. No One Could Take Pleasure In It Who Was Sensitive To Suffering; And Therefore Its Pursuit By Women Is Much More To Be Regretted Than Its Pursuit By Men, Because Women Pursue Much More Violently And Recklessly What They Pursue At All.

It Is A Kind Of Blindness--poverty. We Can Only Grope Through Life When We Are Poor, Hitting And Maiming Ourselves Against Every Angle.

For What Is The Gift Of The Poet And The Artist Except To See The Sights Which Others Cannot See And To Hear The Sounds That Others Cannot Hear?