Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones

How Loud Clocks Can Tick When A Room Is Empty, And One Is Alone!

This Is War: Boys Flung Into A Breach Like Shoveled Earth; And Old Men, Broken, Driving Rapidly Before Crowds Of People In A Glitter Of Silly Decorations. Behind The Boys And The Old Men, Life Weeps, And Shreds Her Garments To The Blowing Winds.

Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones

Great Emotion Always Tends To Become Rhythmic, And Out Of That Tendency The Forms Of Art Have Been Evolved. Art Becomes Artificial Only When The Forms Take Precedence Over The Emotion.

Witches Are Moon-birds, Witches Are The Women Of The False, Beautiful Moon.