The World Is Sown With

For My Part, I Wish, With Mr. Howells, That The Literature Of The Past Might Be Purged Of All That Is Ugly And Barbarous In It, Although I Should Object As Much As Any One To Having These Great Works Weakened Or Falsified.

Touch Each Object As If Tomorrow You Would Never Be Able To Feel Anything Again.

Our Democracy Is But A Name. We Vote? What Does That Mean? It Means That We Choose Between Two Bodies Of Real, Though Not Avowed, Autocrats. We Choose Between Tweedledum And Tweedledee.

Use Your Eyes As If Tomorrow You Would Be Stricken Blind. Hear The Music Of Voices, The Song Of Birds, The Mighty Strains Of An Orchestra As If You Would Be Stricken Deaf Tomorrow . . . Smell The Perfume Of Flowers, Taste With Relish Each Morsel As If Tomorrow You Could Never Smell And Taste Again. Glory In All The Facts Of Pleasure And Beauty Which The World Reveals To You.

My Optimism Is Grounded In Two Worlds, Myself And What Is About Me. I Demand That The World Be Good, And Lo, It Obeys. I Proclaim The World Good, And Facts Range Themselves To Prove My Proclamation Overwhelmingly True.