Women Are Strangers In The Country Of

When Modernist Poetry, Or What Not So Long Ago Passed For Modernist Poetry, Can Reach The Stage Where The Following Piece By Mr. Ezra Pound Is Seriously Offered As A Poem, There Is Some Justification For The Plain Reader And Orthodox Critic Who Shrinks From Anything That May Be Labelled 'modernist' Either In Terms Of Condemnation Or Approbation. Better He Thinks, That Ten Authentic Poets Should Be Left For Posterity To Discover Than One Charlatan Should Be Allowed To Steal Into The Temple Of Fame.

Woman Is The Symbol To Man Of The Uncleanness Of Bodily Existence, Of Which He Purifies Himself By Putting Her To Noble Uses. She Thus Has For Him A Double, Contradictory Significance; She Is The Subject Of His Bawdry And The Subject Of His Romance.

We Live On The Circumference Of A Hollow Circle. We Draw The Circumference, Like Spiders, Out Of Ourselves: It Is All Criticism Of Criticism.

In Religion Is Much Tiredness Of People, A Giving Over Of Their Doing To Someone Else.

A Religion Addresses The Longing In Us To Have That Said From Which We Can Go On To Speak Of Next And Next Things Rightly, In Their Immediate Time - The Telling Of What Came First And Before Done Forever.