This Is The Age In Which Thin

Our Digestions, Going Sacredly And Silently Right, That Is The Foundation Of All Poetry.

Each Generation Is Converted By The Saint Who Contradicts It Most.

One Pleasure Attached To Growing Older Is That Many Things Seem To Be Growing Younger; Growing Fresher And More Lively Than We Once Supposed Them To Be.

Too Much Capitalism Does Not Mean Too Many Capitalists, But Too Few Capitalists.

There Is Only One Thing That Stands In Our Midst, Attenuated And Threatened, But Enthroned In Some Power Like A Ghost Of The Middle Ages: The Trade Unions.