God Bless The Usa, So Large, So

Detective Stories Have Nothing To Do With Works Of Art.

We Honor Founders Of These Starving Cities, Whose Honor Is The Image Of Our Sorrow.

To Me Art's Subject Is The Human Clay, / And Landscape But A Background To A Torso; / All Cezanne's Apples I Would Give Away / For One Small Goya Or A Daumier.

There Is No Love; There Are Only The Various Envies, All Of Them Sad.

If It Form The One Landscape That We The Inconstant Ones Are Consistently Homesick For, This Is Chiefly Because It Dissolves In Water.