A Woman Unsatisfied Must Have Luxuries. But

The Old Ideals Are Dead As Nails--nothing There. It Seems To Me There Remains Only This Perfect Union With A Woman--sort Of Ultimate Marriage--and There Isn't Anything Else.

Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out, Especially If You're Married And Her Name's Bertha

As We All Know, Too Much Of Any Divine Thing Is Destruction

The Spirit Of The Place Is A Strange Thing. Our Mechanical Age Tries To Override It. But It Does Not Succeed. In The End The Strange, Sinister Spirit Of The Place, So Diverse And Adverse In Differing Places, Will Smash Our Mechanical Oneness Into Smithereens.

Build Then The Ship Of Death, For You Must Take The Longest Journey, To Oblivion.