Driving A Car, You Are

This Is The Spirit Of The Enchantment Under Which Venice Lies, Pearly And Roseate, Like The Sleeping Beauty, Changeless Throughout The Centuries, Arrested, While The Concrete Forest Of The Modern World Grows Up Around Her.

Liberty, As It Is Conceived By Current Opinion, Has Nothing Inherent About It; It Is A Sort Of Gift Or Trust Bestowed On The Individual By The State Pending Good Behavior.

Venice, As A City, Was A Foundling, Floating Upon The Waters Like Moses In His Basket Among The Bulrushes.

The Horror Of Gandhi's Murder Lies Not In The Political Motives Behind It Or In Its Consequences For Indian Policy Or For The Future Of Non-violence; The Horror Lies Simply In The Fact That Any Man Could Look Into The Face Of This Extraordinary Person And Deliberately Pull A Trigger.

It Has To Be Acknowledged That In Capitalist Society, With Its Herds Of Hippies, Originality Has Become A Sort Of Fringe Benefit, A Mere Convention, Accepted Obsolescence, The Beatnik Model Being Turned In For The Hippie Model, As Though Strangely Obedient To Capitalist Laws Of Marketing.