New York, The Nation's Thyroid Gland.

A Critic Is A Gong At A Railroad Crossing Clanging Loudly And Vainly As The Train Goes By.

Truth And Beauty (perhaps Keats Was Wrong In Identifying Them: Perhaps They Have The Relation Of Wit And Humour, Or Rain And Rainbow) Are Of Interest Only To Hungry People. There Are Several Kinds Of Hunger. If Socrates, Spinoza, And Santayana Had Had Free Access To A Midnight Icebox We Would Never Have Heard Of Them. Shall I Be Ashamed Of My Little Mewing Truths?... I Ask To Be Forgiven: They Are Such Tiny Ones.

Life Is A Foreign Language; All Men Mispronounce It.

My Prayer Is That What We Have Gone Through [world War One] Will Startle The World Into Some New Realization Of The Sanctity Of Life, Animal As Well As Human.

New York, The Nation's Thyroid Gland.