Literature Is News That Stays News.

And New York Is The Most Beautiful City In The World? It Is Not Far From It. No Urban Night Is Like The Night There... Squares After Squares Of Flame, Set Up And Cut Into The Aether. Here Is Our Poetry, For We Have Pulled Down The Stars To Our Will.

Song In The Manner Of Housman" O Woe, Woe, People Are Born And Die, We Also Shall Be Dead Pretty Soon Therefore Let Us Act As If We Were Dead Already. The Bird Sits On The Hawthorn Tree But He Dies Also, Presently. Some Lads Get Hung, And Some Get Shot. Woeful Is This Human Lot. Woe! Woe, Etcetera.... London Is A Woeful Place, Shropshire Is Much Pleasanter. Then Let Us Smile A Little Space Upon Fond Nature's Morbid Grace. Oh, Woe, Woe, Woe, Etcetera.

Almost Any Fool Can Paint An Academy Picture, And Any Imbecile Can Shoot Off A Kodak.

Objectivity And Again Objectivity, And Expression: No Hindside-before-ness, No Straddled Adjectives (as "addled Mosses Dank"), No Tennysonianness Of Speech; Nothing-nothing That You Couldn't, In Some Circumstance, In The Stress Of Some Emotion, Actually Say.

Adolf Hitler Was A Jeanne D'arc, A Saint. He Was A Martyr. Like Many Martyrs, He Held Extreme Views.