The Waste Of Plenty Is The Resource

Clouds On Clouds, In Volumes Driven, Curtain Round The Vault Of Heaven.

A Book That Furnishes No Quotations, Is Me Judice, No Book, — It Is A Plaything.

I Like The Immaterial World. I Like To Live Among Thoughts And Images Of The Past And The Possible, And Even Of The Impossible, Now And Then.

... Where The Greeks Had Modesty, We Have Cant; Where They Had Poetry, We Have Cant; Where They Had Patriotism, We Have Cant; Where They Had Anything That Exalts, Delights, Or Adorns Humanity, We Have Nothing But Cant, Cant, Cant.

Time, The Foe Of Man's Dominion, Wheels Around In Ceaseless Flight, Scattering From His Hoary Pinion Shades Of Everlasting Night.