Let My Country Die For Me.

Beauty, The Splendour Of Truth, Is A Gracious Presence When The Imagination Contemplates Intensely The Truth Of Its Own Being Or The Visible World, And The Spirit Which Proceeds Out Of Truth And Beauty Is The Holy Spirit Of Joy. These Are Realities And These Alone Give And Sustain Life.

Human Society Is The Embodiment Of Changeless Laws Which The Whimsicalities And Circumstances Of Men And Women Involve And Overwrap. The Realm Of Literature Is The Realm Of These Accidental Manners And Humours--a Spacious Realm; And The True Literary Artist Concerns Himself Mainly With Them.

Gazing Up Into The Darkness I Saw Myself As A Creature Driven And Derided By Vanity; And My Eyes Burned With Anguish And Anger.

I Wanted Real Adventures To Happen To Myself. But Real Adventures, I Reflected, Do Not Happen To People Who Remain At Home: They Must Be Sought Abroad.

History Is That Nightmare From Which There Is No Awakening.