The Greatest Of The Arts Is The

Too Much Is Written By The Men Who Can't Write About The Men Who Do Write.

San Francisco Is Gone. Nothing Remains Of It But Memories.

Pursuit And Possession Are Accompanied By States Of Consciousness So Wide Apart That They Can Never Be United.

Life? Bah! It Has No Value. Of Cheap Things It Is The Cheapest. Everywhere It Goes Begging. Nature Spills It Out With A Lavish Hand. Where There Is Room For One Life, She Sows A Thousand Lives, And It's Life Eats Life Till The Strongest And Most Piggish Life Is Left.

There Is Another Way Of Disqualifying The Metaphysicians.... Judge Them By Their Works. What Have They Done For Mankind Beyond The Spinning Of Airy Fancies And The Mistaking Of Their Own Shadows For Gods?