I Did Not Enter Into

It Ought To Be Illegal For An Artist To Marry. If The Artist Must Marry Let Him Find Someone More Interested In Art, Or His Art, Or The Artist Part Of Him, Than In Him. After Which Let Them Take Tea Together Three Times A Week.

Song In The Manner Of Housman" O Woe, Woe, People Are Born And Die, We Also Shall Be Dead Pretty Soon Therefore Let Us Act As If We Were Dead Already. The Bird Sits On The Hawthorn Tree But He Dies Also, Presently. Some Lads Get Hung, And Some Get Shot. Woeful Is This Human Lot. Woe! Woe, Etcetera.... London Is A Woeful Place, Shropshire Is Much Pleasanter. Then Let Us Smile A Little Space Upon Fond Nature's Morbid Grace. Oh, Woe, Woe, Woe, Etcetera.

America Is A Lunatic Asylum.

No Picture Is Made To Endure Nor To Live With But It Is Made To Sell And Sell Quickly With Usura, Sin Against Nature, Is Thy Bread Ever More Of Stale Rags Is Thy Bread Dry As Paper.

No Good Poetry Is Ever Written In A Manner Twenty Years Old, For To Write In Such A Manner Shows Conclusively That The Writer Thinks From Books, Convention And Cliché, Not From Real Life.