Only Youth Has A Taste Of Immortality.

The Near Touch Of Death May Be A Release Into Life; If Only It Will Break The Egoistic Will, And Release That Other Flow.

All This Americanising And Mechanising Has Been For The Purpose Of Overthrowing The Past. And Now Look At America, Tangled In Her Own Barbed Wire, And Mastered By Her Own Machines.

Oh, What A Catastrophe For Man When He Cut Himself Off From The Rhythm Of The Year, From His Unison With The Sun And The Earth. Oh, What A Catastrophe, What A Maiming Of Love When It Was A Personal, Merely Personal Feeling, Taken Away From The Rising And The Setting Of The Sun, And Cut Off From The Magic Connection Of The Solstice And The Equinox!

Sleep Is Still Most Perfect, In Spite Of Hygienists, When It Is Shared With A Beloved.

The Old Ideals Are Dead As Nails--nothing There. It Seems To Me There Remains Only This Perfect Union With A Woman--sort Of Ultimate Marriage--and There Isn't Anything Else.