I Hold That Such A Question Can

Hence The Sterile, Uninspiring Futility Of A Great Many Theoretical Discussions Of Ethics, And The Resentment Which Many People Feel Towards Such Discussions: Moral Principles Remain In Their Minds As Floating Abstractions, Offering Them A Goal They Cannot Grasp And Demanding That They Reshape Their Souls In Its Image, Thus Leaving Them With A Burden Of Undefinable Moral Guilt.

Romantic Art Is The Fuel And The Spark Plug Of A Man's Soul. It's Task Is To Set A Soul On Fire And Never Let It Go Out.

That Love Is Reverence, And Worship, And Glory, And The Upward Glance. Not A Bandage For Dirty Sores. But They Don’t Know It. Those Who Speak Of Love Most Promiscuously Are The Ones Who’ve Never Felt It. They Make Some Sort Of Feeble Stew Out Of Sympathy, Compassion, Contempt, And General Indifference, And They Call It Love. Once You’ve Felt What It Means To Love As You And I Know It – The Total Passion For The Total Height – You’re Incapable Of Anything Less.

The Great Creators - The Thinkers, The Artists, The Scientists, The Inventors - Stood Alone Against The Men Of Their Time. Every Great New Thought Was Opposed. Every Great New Invention Was Denounced. The First Motor Was Considered Foolish. The Airplane Was Considered Impossible... But The Men Of Unborrowed Vision Went Ahead. They Fought, They Suffered And They Paid. But They Won.

A House Can Have Integrity, Just Like A Person.