It's Easy To Forget How Central The

The Chilly December Day! Two Shivering Bicycle Mechanics From Dayton, Ohio First Felt Their Homemade Contraption Whittled Out Of Hickory Sticks, Gummed Together With Arnstein's Bicycle Cement, Stretched With Muslin They'd Sewn On Their Sister's Sewing Machine In Their Own Backyard On Hawthorn Street In Dayton, Ohio, Soar Into The Air Above The Dunes And The Wide Beach At Kitty Hawk.

This Ain't A War... It's A Goddam Whorehouse.

When The Typewriter Stops In A New York Office Everybody's Embarrassed; Men Start To Quarrel Or To Make Love To The Stenographer Or Drop Lighted Cigarettes In The Wastebasket.

The Enormous Room Seems To Me To Be The Book That Has Nearest Approached The Mood Of Reckless Adventure In Which Men Will Reach The White Heat Of Imagination Needed To Fuse The Soggy Disjointed Complexity Of The Industrial Life About Us Into Seething Fluid Of Creation. There Can Be No More Playing Safe.

Every Generation Rewrites The Past. In Easy Times History Is More Or Less Of An Ornamental Art, But In Times Of Danger We Are Driven To The Written Record By A Pressing Need To Find Answers To The Riddles Of Today.... In Times Of Change And Danger When There Is A Quicksand Of Fear Under Men's Reasoning, A Sense Of Continuity With Generations Gone Before Can Stretch Like A Lifeline Across The Scary Present And Get Us Past That Idiot Delusion Of The Exceptional Now That Blocks Good Thinking.