Art Is Pattern Informed By

Creeds And Castes, And All Forms Of Intellectual And Emotional Grouping, Belong To The Past.

In A Sense, Every Tool Is A Machine--the Hammer, The Ax, And The Chisel. And Every Machine Is A Tool. The Real Distinction Is Between One Man Using A Tool With His Hands And Producing An Object That Shows At Every Stage The Direction Of His Will And The Impression Of His Personality; And A Machine Which Is Producing, Without The Intervention Of A Particular Man, Objects Of A Uniformity And Precision That Show No Individual Variation And Have No Personal Charm. The Problem Is To Decide Whether The Objects Of Machine Production Can Possess The Essential Qualities Of Art.

If The Individual Is A Unit In A Corporate Mass, His Life Is Not Merely Brutish And Short, But Dull And Mechanical.

The Modern Poet Has No Essential Alliance With Regular Schemes Of Any Sorts.he Reserves The Right To Adapt His Rhythm To His Mood, To Modulate His Metre As He Progresses. Far From Seeking Freedom And Irresponsibility (implied By The Unfortunate Term Free Verse) He Seeks A Stricter Discipline Of Exact Concord Of Thought And Feeling.

It Does Not Seem That The Contradiction Which Exists Between The Aristocratic Function Of Art And The Democratic Structure Of Modern Society Can Ever Be Resolved.