War Is The Supreme Drama Of A

Without Leisure There Can Be Neither Art Nor Science Nor Fine Conversation, Nor Any Ceremonious Performance Of The Offices Of Love And Friendship.

War Is Both The Product Of An Earlier Corruption, And A Producer Of New Corruptions.

Every Generation Revolts Against Its Fathers And Makes Friends With Its Grandfathers.

A Picture Was Once A Rare Sort Of Symbol, Rare Enough To Call For Attentive Concentration. Now It Is The Actual Experience That Is Rare, And The Picture Has Become Ubiquitous.

Iron And Coal Dominated Everywhere, From Grey To Black: The Black Boots, The Black Stove-pipe Hat, The Black Coach Or Carriage, The Black Iron Frame Of The Hearth, The Black Cooking Pots And Pans And Stoves. Was It A Mourning? Was It Protective Coloration? Was It Mere Depression Of The Senses? No Matter What The Original Color Of The Paleotechnic Milieu Might Be It Was Soon Reduced By Reason Of The Soot And Cinders That Accompanied Its Activities, To Its Characteristic Tones, Grey, Dirty-brown, Black.