I Don't Want To Work. I Want

One Can't Carry One's Father's Corpse About Everywhere.

To Insist On Purity Is To Baptize Instinct, To Humanize Art, And To Deify Personality.

Without Poets, Without Artists... Everything Would Fall Apart Into Chaos. There Would Be No More Seasons, No More Civilizations, No More Thought, No More Humanity, No More Life Even; And Impotent Darkness Would Reign Forever. Poets And Artists Together Determine The Features Of Their Age, And The Future Meekly Conforms To Their Edit.

We Cannot Carry Our Father's Corpse With Us Everywhere We Go.

My, How Beautiful Is War! Its Songs, Its Leisure!