Cultivate Your Futurism. I'll Cultivate

I Read Like The Flame Reads The Wood.

But The Main Things About A Man Are His Eyes And His Feet. He Should Be Able To See The World And Go After It.

Revolution? Unscrew The Flag-staff, Wrap The Bunting In The Oil Covers, And Put The Thing In The Clothes-chest. Let The Old Lady Bring You Your House-slippers And Untie Your Fiery Red Necktie. You Always Make Revolutions With Your Mugs, Your Republic--nothing But An Industrial Accident.

Next-door A Baker's Apprentice With His Wife, An Employee In A Printing-shop, She Has Inflammation Of The Ovaries. Wonder What Those Two Get Out Of Life? Well, First Of All, They Get Each Other, Then Last Sunday A Vaudeville And A Film, Then This Or That Club Meeting And A Visit To His Parents. Nothing Else? Well Now, Don't Drop Dead, Sir. Add To That Nice Weather, Bad Weather, Country Picnics, Standing In Front Of The Stove, Eating Breakfast And So On. And What More Do You Get, You, Captain, General, Jockey, Whoever You Are? Don't Fool Yourself.

Writing Is Not Chewing Your Nails And Picking Your Teeth, But A Matter Of Public Interest.