If Ever The Public Was Betrayed By

Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom, The Bobolinks Are Singing; Out Of The Fragrant Heart Of Bloom The Apple-tree Whispers To The Room, "why Art Thou But A Nest Of Gloom While The Bobolinks Are Singing?

The Wars Come And Go In Blood And Tears; But Whether They Are Bad Wars, Or What Are Comically Called Good Wars, They Are Of One Effect In Death And Sorrow.

What The American Public Wants In The Theater Is A Tragedy With A Happy Ending.

By Beauty Of Course I Mean Truth, For The One Involves The Other; It Is Only The False In Art Which Is Ugly, And It Is Only The Ugly That Is Universal.

In Europe Life Is Histrionic And Dramatized, And In America, Except When It Is Trying To Be European, It Is Direct And Sincere.