What Kind Of Times Are

The Mill Wheel Turns, It Turns Forever, Though What Is Uppermost Remains Not So.

Firebugs Dragging Their Gasoline Bottles Are Approaching The Academy Of Arts, With A Grin. And So, Instead Of Embracing Them, Let Us Demand The Freedom Of The Elbow To Knock The Bottles Out Of Their Filthy Hands. Even The Most Blockheaded Bureaucrat, Provided He Loves Peace, Is A Greater Lover Of The Arts Than Any So-called Art-lover Who Loves The Arts Of War.

Don't Expect The Theatre To Satisfy The Habits Of Its Audience, But To Change Them.

Unhappiness Doesn't Grow On The Chest Like Leprosy. Poverty Won't Fall Off The Roof Like A Loose Tile, No; Poverty And Unhappiness Are Man's Doing.

Their Peace And Their War Are Like Wind And Storm. War Grows From Their Peace.