Sex Is The Mysticism Of Materialism.

In The Cycle Of A Great Civilization, The Artist Begins As Priest, And Ends As A Clown Or Buffoon.

Future Historians Will Surely See Us As Having Created In The Media A Frankenstein Monster Whom No One Knows How To Control Ordirect, And Marvelthat Weshould Have So Meekly Subjected Ourselves To Its Destructive And Often Malign Influence.

This Life In Us; However Low It Flickers Or Fiercely Burns, Is Still A Divine Flame Which No Man Dare Presume To Put Out, Be His Motives Never So Humane And Enlightened; To Suppose Otherwise Is To Countenance A Death-wish; Either Life Is Always And In All Circumstances Sacred, Or Intrinsically Of No Account; It Is Inconceivable That It Should Be In Some Cases The One, And In Some The Other.

In Politics, As In Womanizing, Failure Is Decisive. It Sheds Its Retrospective Gloom On Earlier Endeavor Which At The Time Seemed Full Of Promise.

It's A Sad Thing About Politics That Most People Get Power Too Late, In That They Differ From Ladies Of Easy Virtue Who Get Their Pleasures Too Early.