Win For Yourself That Which Your Fathers

I Know Nothing More Mocking Than A Devil That Despairs.

I Have Found Among My Papers A Sheet . . . In Which I Call Architecture Frozen Music.

The Master Proves Himselin Recognizing His Limitations.

The Few Of Understanding, Vision Rare, Who Veiled Not From The Herd Their Hearts, But Tried, Poor Generous Fools, To Lay Their Feelings Bare, Them Have Men Always Burnt And Crucified.

If One Has Not Read The Newspapers For Some Months And Then Reads Them All Together, One Sees, As One Never Saw Before, How Much Time Is Wasted With This Kind Of Literature.