My, How Beautiful Is War!

When Man Wanted To Make A Machine That Would Walk He Created The Wheel, Which Does Not Resemble A Leg.

It's Raining My Soul, It's Raining, But It's Raining Dead Eyes.

My, How Beautiful Is War! Its Songs, Its Leisure!

The New Painters Do Not Propose, Any More Than Did Their Predecessors, To Be Geometers. But It May Be Said That Geometry Is To The Plastic Arts What Grammar Is To The Art Of The Writer. Today, Scholars No Longer Limit Themselves To The Three Dimensions Of Euclid. The Painters Have Been Lead Quite Naturally, One Might Say By Intuition, To Preoccupy Themselves With The New Possibilities Of Spatial Measurement Which, In The Language Of The Modern Studios, Are Designated By The Term Fourth Dimension.

In This Mirror, I Am Enclosed A Live And Real As You. Imagine Angels And Not Like The Reflections.